


Hard Knocks in Hotland

by DarklingImp



Series: Fast Food Friends [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Anxiety, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frisk is a Shipper, Grief, Healing, Humor, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, M/M, Miscommunication, Monsters Inc. reference, Non-Canonical Character Death, Rebuilding Self-Worth, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sweet 'N Salty, Tabby helps too hard, Tarzan reference, True-Pacifist Route, keeping secrets, naruto reference, nicepants - Freeform, unhealthy work environment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 50,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarklingImp/pseuds/DarklingImp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bluebell the Nice Cream Vendor has hit it off with an aspiring actor from the city.  Unfortunately, his instincts are telling him that all is not well for his new friend.  When a trip to Hotland verifies his suspicions, Bluebell must figure out how to reach out to Burgerpants before it is too late.</p><p>But with only two felines and a small furless child to help him, will it be enough?</p><p>(Sequel to "Snowed In in Snowdin".  Slow build romance, M/M)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So This Is What My Life Has Become

**Author's Note:**

> ***WARNING:
> 
> There may be content in this story that may be triggering to some of you. This includes references and/or depictions of: drug use and other addictive behaviors, depression, harmful work environment, references to health issues, bullying, verbal abuse, self-esteem issues, workaholism, past non-canonical character death, and self-harm. 
> 
> There will be a few more as we go along, but I will add tags as we reach those chapters along with a warning attached to the corresponding chapter.

The grand opening of Mettaton’s Burger Emporium was as ritzy and flashy as anything the Underground had ever seen, and easily one of the most memorable events in recent monster history. The robot himself spared no expense to open the corner restaurant and had spent the entire week leading up to it dramatically bragging about it across all forms of social media.

Truth be told, the restaurant itself had not changed very much. The dining area was bigger, certainly, but that was only because the construction crew had taken out part of the kitchen for it.

Working in that cramped space left Burgerpants feeling like an inchworm making rounds inside of a hot empty tuna can. The heat, normally sweltering from the norm of working in a Hotland restaurant, had greatly increased due to the lack of space for the warmth to spread out. With only a couple of box fans as air conditioning -- which couldn’t even be used when it came time to give the Glamburgers (now trademarked!) their complimentary coating of sequins and glitter -- stepping into the kitchen now felt like entering a sauna.

Apart from that, the rest of the renovations had been purely decorative. The walls were covered in a fresh coat of yellow paint and the floor tiles were now rearranged (in appropriate shades red, yellow and gray) in the shape of his boss’ face.

(It did provide comedic relief knowing that Burgerpants was stepping all over the robot’s face. At the end of the reopening day, he actually played hopscotch across it. Asgore, did that feel _good_!)

In terms of practicality, however, there had been absolutely no changes. Of course, it made sense not to hire extra help! Of course, Burgerpants could handle it all on his own! Of _course_ , it didn’t matter that your only employee would be stuck running between the fryer and till so constantly for hours on end that he wound up faint from dehydration because his own brainless calculator of a boss was too busy signing autographs and basking in the glow of his fans’ adoration to take over so he could get a drink of water!

Of. Freaking. **_COURSE_**.

As much as he hated to cut his visit to Snowdin short, Burgerpants was now glad he had. If he hadn’t rested up, he was absolutely sure he would have collapsed in an exhausted heap at the register after only a few hours. Thank goodness he actually had left Hotland when he did, though, because he found out from the maitre d’ of the resort’s swankier restaurant that some of the hotel workers had been drafted into the construction crew.

…That actually explained why the cabinet doors were crooked and pipes below the sink were fitted wrong. Gotta love playing plumber before you come on shift, yeah?

As exhausted as he was, however, his first day back at work wasn’t…all bad.

In fact, he had surprised himself at just how full of energy he had been. 

For the first time in ages, he actually gone into work with a genuine smile on his face. Even the more pesky customers hadn’t bothered him. If anything, he had actually been fueled more by everyone’s excitement and had even shared a hearty laugh with a few of them. 

His boss had glanced at him a few times (his looks unreadable because, hey, no face!), but at one point a checkmark had even flashed across his pixels. Sure, Mettaton might have been feeling generous because of how well the reopening was going, but he had not played “The Many Failings of Burgerpants: Greatest Hits” that day. Burgerpants wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth…whatever that meant. He didn’t quite understand some of the phrases humans used in their movies, but it felt appropriate for the situation.

Briefly, Burgerpants wondered if his luck was changing.

If it was, he knew exactly where it had started.

Though he hardly had a spare second to _breathe_ let alone think, Burgerpants found his mind drifting back to Snowdin. When he dunked frozen foodstuffs into the fryer, he no longer saw steam arising from the hot grease but the swirling mist of snow that lingered over the forest. The blinding twinkle of glitter beneath the fluorescent kitchen lights reminded him of the glimmer in a certain rabbit’s eyes. Any time he spotted a flash of blue in the sea of customers, his heart leaped to his throat.

_I wonder if Starfaits would look better if they were a shade more…blue_ , he thought. Yeah, a nice layering of cyan with a cobalt center, topped with snowy white whipped topping and silvery little glitter sprinkles on top. _I’d eat it._

The mental image was deliciously sinful in more ways than one, and there was absolutely no hiding that it had made every one of his hairs stand on end when he went into a full body blush.

Rubbing one paw over his face, he turned out the lights to the restaurant, flipped over the _We’re Open!_ sign so that it read _Beat It, We’re Closed!_ (the sight of which made him chuckle as it reminded him of one of his favorite human pop songs), and then fished out his phone.

_Four texts from Bluebell_ , he read with a smile. As he headed up the stairs, he scrolled through the Nice Cream vendor’s messages:

 

**_Bluebell: hope youre having a good morning friend! :D_**

**_Bluebell: watching the reopening with the sibs! (photo of Bluebell in the middle of a bunny pile)_ **

**_Bluebell: is that you?_ **

**_Bluebell: OMG THAT WAS YOU_ **

****

Burgerpants took a break from Bluebell’s messages when he noticed that an unknown number had sent him a couple of texts. He opened them.

 

_???: This is Macy. Bluebell gave me your number. I hope you do not mind. ;)  
_

Burgerpants snorted. Even Macy’s _texts_ had that sly smile in them. He saved the number to his phone before seeing the other messages from the Snowed Innkeeper.

 

_Macy: He doesn’t know I’m recording him. Thought you might enjoy this~!_

 

Stepping to the side of the stairway to let some other monsters pass, Burgerpants leaned against the railing and, after adjusting the volume, tapped open the enclosed video.

Immediately, he was greeted with the sight of Bluebell, still in the middle of the bunny pile, carefully scrutinizing the television screen in front of him. Macy’s quiet chuckle lilted through the speakers as she gently nudged away one of her son’s ears that had drifted into the shot. Now and then, Bluebell would glance down at his phone and type something ( _Probably the messages from earlier_ , Burgerpants realized) before hastily looking back up at the screen. 

_“Isn’t that your friend?”_ asked one of the bunnies. Bluebell’s head snapped over to…Mopsy, was it? Or maybe it was Flopsy. It was hard to tell the twins apart.

All Burgerpants knew was that the reaction was immediate and chaotic.

Bluebell’s head whipped around so fast Burgerpants thought it might snap, and his whole body practically lurched when he caught a glimpse of a figure on screen. A wild cry rose up from the bunnies because they had all been leaning against one another -- so when Bluebell shot forward, two flopped down into the space where their older brother had been sitting with the rest collapsing backward in a domino motion. It ended with Bluebell being spooked off the couch entirely, only barely scrambling to keep hold of the bunny who had been sitting in his lap.

Macy’s raucous, wicked cackles echoed in the stairway for a split second before the video cut out.

The cat monster stared at the phone so long that the screen timed out. In the now deserted stairway, all he could hear was the buzzing of the lights overhead until the rising thump of his heart resounded fully in his ears.

_He reacted that way…because of me?_

Burgerpants swore he flushed straight down to his toes.

 

If this was how he reacted over a simple video, then how on earth was he going to handle it when Bluebell came to visit him?


	2. Changes Are Coming

The ping of a text message woke Burgerpants early the next morning.

Groaning, the cat turned over and groped along the nightstand until he found his phone. “Ugh, that had better not be the boss,” he grumbled, blinking blearily as his eyes adjusted to the sharp contrast of bright cell phone screen against dark bedroom. 

To his surprise, it wasn’t Mettaton.

 

_**Bluebell: good morning!**_

 

Burgerpants glanced at the time on his phone. _5:31 AM_. Still roughly an hour and a half before he had to be downstairs. 

Letting the phone drop momentarily onto the blanket, Burgerpants linked his fingers together and sat up, stretching his arms high until he could hear the familiar popping of his shoulder joints. He lolled his head from side to side and shrugged several times, loosening up the stiffness that had settled in during slumber. He could feel the ache of the previous day lingering along his upper arms and back.

_Guess all of that R &R out in Snowdin’s made me go soft_, he grimaced. A series of pings split the silence, prompting Burgerpants to pick up his mobile.

 

**_Bluebell: i hope i didnt wake you_**

**_Bluebell: i just wanted to say dont work too hard today_ **

**_Bluebell: have fun today at work! : D  
_ **

Normally, having his limited sleep interrupted over anything less than an announcement that the hotel was on fire or humans were invading the Underground would have him riled to a hissing fit. Considering it was Bluebell, though, Burgerpants couldn’t find it in his heart to stay annoyed for long.

He reread the last text message and shook his head.

“Have fun at work“? Burgerpants let out a sardonic chuckle. _Poor, sweet, innocent Bluebell. If only he knew…_

 

…Actually, come to think of it, perhaps it was better that Bluebell _didn’t_ know. I mean, sure he had ranted to him about working for Mettaton already, but if he knew exactly how crazy it really was at work? 

Bluebell was a bit of mother hen, after all.

Deciding against trying to get a few more precious moments of sleep, Burgerpants shuffled out of bed and decided to get ready for work. He fired off a few texts of his own -- just enough to qualify for small talk -- before heading off to brew some coffee.

 

While he was waiting, Burgerpants looked around his apartment. It was a small place with only three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, and a general living/dining area. In the latter was a kitchenette, which was separated from the rest of the room by a few floor tiles and a cabinet island.

Since the apartment was one of the older ones on the lower floors (the rest of the resort having been built up and around the original complex), it had not been redone in Mettaton’s signature red-and-yellow palette. Instead, the countertops were a cheap granite-like pattern, with the cabinets and flat expanse of carpet that spanned the living area and bedroom being dull brown shades. The floor tiles, ceiling and walls were a faded white, long ago having lost their pristine bleached look from years of smoking occupants. With just the kitchen light turned on, the whole place was bathed in an eerily cold glow, making dark shadows crawl out behind the old couch (which was also brown and in dire need of reupholstering) and other sparse furniture.

Burgerpants frowned as he scrutinized the kitchen. He really would need to clean up soon. The countertops were littered with a mix of soda cups, crumbled receipts, and loose GOLD. The only dish that wasn’t in the sink was his favorite coffee mug, and _that_ was only because he took it to work every day.

The coffee table in front of the couch wasn’t much better. Currently, three empty pizza boxes and several magazines and CDs covered the top.

He couldn’t recall the last time he vacuumed the place. After his old cleaner gave a wild shriek and started smoking more than he did after a bad day at work, he had to throw it out. That was…five weeks ago? He ticked off the numbers in his head.

( _Yeah, five weeks. I probably should get another one._ )

And the trashcan by the door? Well, he probably should have taken that out long ago. There was no more room in the bag to actually stuff garbage into, and the lid (as well as several balled-up takeout bags) was lying on the floor beside it.

The only reason his laundry hamper was nearly empty was because he hardly ever wore anything besides one of his three identical uniforms and the occasional pair of pajama pants -- unless his boss was in one of his more sadistic moods where he’d have Burgerpants model some weird getup (last time it was a Burgerpants-sized version of the Carrier Bird that lived at Waterfall), but most of those he only wore for five minutes at most, so he could just throw them back into the closet without them really needing washed.

Yes, Bluebell might be able to excuse the minimalist living conditions, but the mess had to go. But where would he start…?

 

It came as little surprise when Burgerpants walked into the Burger Emporium and found his boss already there. It WAS only the day after the reopening, after all.

Grabbing his hat from the hook, Burgerpants threw a hand up in greeting as he headed across the dining area.

“Ah, Burgerpants, there you are!” 

Burgerpants always wondered how a robot like Mettaton managed to capture all of the nuances of monster speech when he had no soul. Admittedly, that WAS pretty incredible. More amazing still was how MTT managed to pull off that sickly sweet sensuality with metallic reverb wrapping around every syllable he emitted -- especially without a face.

Of course, he also didn’t understand how his boss could be so seemingly warm and friendly while in the limelight but an utter jerk to Burgerpants himself.

Then again, Burgerpants really didn’t put much effort into trying to impress his boss anymore. Ever since the incident that brought about his nickname, Mettaton only seemed to delight in tormenting the cat monster. Surely, there had to be a line between punishment and flat-out harassment (and if there was, MTT had crossed that line one album of Burgerpants-deprecating songs ago).

But today? He was feeling generous.

He smiled at the robot as he stepped behind the counter, taking down his apron and hat from a peg on the wall. “How ya’ doing, Bossman?”

Mettaton put his slinky arms on his hips. “You seem awfully chipper today, darling,” he waved his employee on toward the kitchen, “as did you yesterday. Do carry on that way. We want to leave a good impression on our new customers!”

Burgerpants tried not to roll his eyes. WHAT new customers? The customers he had yesterday were the same as they always had, only the regulars gave up their usual dining days to check out the opening. Nobody really even ordered anything different anyway (except for the idiots who never read the menu and just ordered random items. Burgerpants was pretty sure those customers were just trolling him), since there had not been any new additions to the menu.

Adjusting his nametag, Burgerpants cheerfully quipped, “You got it, Boss.”

The loud squelch of a wheel across tile sounded as Mettaton rolled around the counter. “I do mean it, darling. Your customer service must be top notch today! It is only the second day since the unveiling of the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, so…”

Mettaton went into a spiel about everything that must be done _just so_ , extolling the long and complicated protocols -- nearly all of which were useless and inefficient and Burgerpants would just skip the moment his boss’ back was turned anyway. Burgerpants nodded along anyway, interjecting answers he could have repeated in his sleep. It’s not like his boss didn’t pull something similar to this once a week. Only by then, Burgerpants was usually on his last legs after a lunch rush and in desperate need of either food, a rest, or a smoke (if not all three), so his brain usually responded with monosyllabic mush.

About five minutes into Mettaton’s rambling, Burgerpants felt his phone vibrate. Normally, he kept his phone turned off at work, but he had been so caught up in his conversation with Bluebell before work that he had forgotten about it. At least he had remembered to put it on vibrate. Since his boss was a stickler for the rules, it meant he couldn’t take out his cell for any reason, even if it was to turn it off. 

Burgerpants’ lips quirked upward a bit more. In his own subtle way, he sort of felt like he was sticking it to the man -- or, in this case, robot -- by utilizing this loophole. He was rebelling against the rules by following the rules.

He knew exactly who was texting him, too.

Finally, Mettaton tired of using Burgerpants as his verbal springboard and wheeled himself out to do some show or the other. The specifics were lost on Burgerpants, who immediately slipped into the freezer to take out the packages of frozen Glamburger buns needed for the breakfast rush. While he was in there, he pulled out his phone and saw that, indeed, he had gotten a message from Bluebell:

 

**_Bluebell: look! look -- it’s not even 8 oclock and ive already had a new customer!_**

 

Burgerpants chuckled and told him that was great.

 

**_Bluebell: want to see? : D_**

 ** __**  
Burgerpants shrugged. _Why not?_

He gave Bluebell the go-ahead.

Attached to the next message was a picture of Bluebell happily grinning into the phone as he took selfie of himself and his newest customer. Or at least part of his customer. Most of them was cut off by the angle of the hastily taken picture.

 

The only part Burgerpants could see was a tiny furless hand holding a Nice Cream stick and the sleeve of a striped shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it bad that when I was describing Burgerpants’ messy apartment that I had the urge to scrub my whole house?


	3. What's Bothering Bluebell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It‘s been a long week, folks, so I want to do a few reader shout-outs at the bottom as thanks to the ones among you that have made me smile most during it.

Bluebell laughed heartily as he tucked away his cell phone. The small child he had waited on peered up at him expectantly. 

“I think he liked it,” the vendor told them. “Thanks for letting me have a snapshot, friend.”

The child smiled up at him and nodded before turning their attention back to their Nice Cream. Bluebell watched their stubby little fingers fruitlessly tug at the string that tied off the paper at the base of his homemade treat. Realizing he made the knot too tight, he held out his hand. 

“May I?”

With an affirming grunt and a nod, they held up the package, the sleeves of their oversized striped sweater drooping cutely over their hand. It reminded him of his own younger siblings whenever they tried on new clothes before their mother had a chance to hem anything.

Smiling, he plucked the Nice Cream from their grasp and pulled out a small pocket knife to slice the string. He then handed it back to its ecstatic owner and patiently waited to see their reaction. The moment they took their first bite, their eyes lit up and they quickly chomped several bites out of it before groaning and grabbing at their head with their free hand.

Wincing, Bluebell said, “Brain freeze?” When they nodded, he told them, “Try pushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth. It should help.”

The child whimpered and ground their fists up against the their face, their brow all scrunched up as they waited for the cold surge to pass. Even though he pitied the kid, Bluebell couldn’t help but smile. The sight was just too adorable.

Slowly, the brain freeze wore off and the child look back up at Bluebell with a sheepish smile. They drew their open right palm away from their mouth. _Thank you_.

“Try to eat a bit slower next time and that should not happen.” 

Nodding, the child returned to their treat, nibbling cautiously. Soon, they remembered the paper with the message in which their Nice Cream had been wrapped. They unfurled it and their smile soon bloomed to span their whole face. From where the rabbit monster stood, he could easily see the writing:

 

**REACH FOR THE STARS!**

 

Bluebell smiled at that one. It was one of the notes he had come up with since Burgy had visited.

Burgy…That’s what he had taken to calling Burgerpants. At least, when the cat monster wasn’t around. He still wasn’t quite certain why his friend was called that other than the vague explanation that it had something to do with work. Bluebell figured it must be a running joke because his friend was wearing a nametag with the nickname on it during the Burger Emporium reopening broadcast.

Even though Burgerpants had only visited for a few days, he had brought a burst of excitement that had lit up Snowdin. Regardless of the story he was telling, he expounded any account in such a passionate and dramatic way that it was impossible not to get reeled into it. Even when he was just cooking something for the bunnies or shoveling snow, the cat threw his all into it with a fire that rivaled the power of the Core itself. And his expressions…?

His wacky facial expressions were the cherry on the cake. Bluebell only knew a couple of monsters with distortion magic, but he had never seen it applied in such an utterly entertaining way before Burgerpants. 

Oh, and he was cute. 

Handsome, really, especially when he was all dressed to the nines in that red leather jacket (which only made his tawny fur look all the softer and warmer) with that sly, smug grin on his face. It made him look rugged, tough… _suave_ even. But when he was sleepy or grumbling over trying to solve a problem or making those wild faces, he was cute.

Just. Plain. Cute.

Not that he was perfect. Bluebell could see that much (regardless of what his sister claimed she knew he thought!). 

Like the smoking. 

He really wished Burgerpants wasn’t a stoner. Even if you had been born into the Underground, it could get stifling at times, and often the opportunities monsters dreamed about were difficult to make happen within such a small realm and with such limited resources. He knew some monsters liked stave off their problems through “self-medication”, so to speak, and most of the ones he knew who did that, well…

It usually wasn’t long before they _fell down_.

Bluebell really hoped that wasn’t the case. After all, some Hotlanders were recreational users. 

But then there was his job. Being that dedicated to his work was admirable, but Burgy seemed like he didn’t enjoy it much. And working such long hours with hardly any days off between? That seemed…unhealthy.

Alright, actually, it set an alarm bell off in his mind, but it wasn’t the first time Bluebell had overreacted to a danger that was not actually there.

Just seeing Burgerpants looking so exhausted when he thought no one was watching, though…

And that day at the pond? With his face peering out from behind trembling hands? He just looked so utterly _lost_.

Bluebell had asked Sans about it. The shorter of the two Skeleton Brothers was a real jokester and very laidback, so it was not difficult to confide in him. Behind the screen of laziness and cheesy puns, though, Bluebell knew Sans was much smarter than he let on and exceedingly observant. Being a brother to the exuberant Papyrus, he had to be. 

(On more than one occasion, Bluebell accidentally oversaw Sans use his magic to discreetly help his brother out with one of his puzzles or some other task. He did not know why Sans wanted to keep most of his magic use a secret, but it seemed too personal to be shared, so Bluebell didn’t ask.)

Sans, however, neither refuted nor denied his fears.

_if i was you, pal, i‘d go with my gut_ , he had told Bluebell.

(He then made a pun about skeleton monsters not actually having guts, which admittedly had lightened the mood but hadn’t dismissed Bluebell’s worries entirely.)

 

_Maybe I am just a worrywart_ , Bluebell thought. After all, he and Burgerpants had only recently met, so maybe he was getting worked up over nothing. He was probably freaking out preemptively because of his attraction to the cat monster and his protective side was just crying out to help someone.

Suddenly, he realized that the furless child was looking at him curiously.

He smiled politely and asked, “Something on your mind, friend?”

The child pointed to him and signed, _R U OK_?

“Who, me?” Bluebell shook his head, hoping to mollify their concern. “I’m just fine. Only thinking too much, I suppose.”

The child cocked their head to the side and but one hand on their hip, sassily conveying the obvious message _I know that’s a load of garbage_. His sister Macy pulled that one on him so many times that he actually winced when he saw the pose’s miniature version.

Stroking back his ears nervously, he pondered for a moment. _Why not?_ he thought. _If it’s so glaringly obvious that even a kid would be worried, then I’ll KNOW I’m not overreacting._

 

…So he told the kid his story. Sure, he may have glossed over a few details -- like accidentally punching his bedmate in his sleep and, oh, having a crush on the guy because hel~loooo obvious protective urges’ bias -- but it was enough to get the point across.

He finished up his story with a nervous laugh, “…So yeah, that’s the deal. Kinda silly to be so worked up, huh?”

Bluebell’s ears dropped and heart plummeted when the child frowned and shook their head vigorously.

Shakily, he added, “You don’t think I’m making a big deal over it?”

Headshake. 

“I see…” he said, the polite smile on his face wavering. “You think I should go check on him?”

Adamant nodding.

“Right.” 

Bluebell shoved himself up from the cart he was leaning across. He looked down at the kid, who shot him a thumbs up. Before he closed up his stand, he dug out a Nice Cream and gave it to the kid as a freebie for listening to him. The sweater-wearing child thanked him and sauntered off into the snow, gone back to do whatever they were doing before. 

He drummed his fingers along the top of the cart before getting an idea.

“Y’know,” he thought aloud, “everybody could use a free Nice Cream now and then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter from Bluebell’s POV! What do you all think? And yes, before you ask, we WILL be playing off the patch that makes this ship CANON (thank you, Mr. Toby Fox!). Also, True-Pacifist!Frisk is a doll baby, and we all know it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, shout-outs time!
> 
> First off, we have one for the lovely **dongoverlord** from over on Tumblr. Thank you very much for reading my fic series and may you have a very fortune-filled week. I hope you find a four-leaf clover sticking out of the snow if there’s snow where you are.
> 
> Then we have **COOLSKELETON95**! Oh my goodness, I cannot tell you how much your very battle dialogue-esque comments made me laugh yesterday when I sorely needed laughter the most. By all means, please continue those; they were utterly hilarious!
> 
> Thirdly, a very loyal reader (and wonderful writer): **IminUndertaleHell**! Seeing comments from you always brings me joy. I really need to get to some of your other works. They are such delights to read. (and I promise that, should I ever have to kill off an active character in this series, I will write a very gratifying death scene)
> 
> **TheInevitableSense** deserves one for their icon of Tommy Wiseau trying to look sarcastic alone. XD (I am grateful for your support, too, but I had to point that out). 
> 
> Also, one for **karla** because I can’t recall your commenting before but I want to thank you for tuning in. New commenters always make me extremely happy.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Finally -- and possibly the one that has me the MOST FREAKING STOKED -- of all the people to comment on one of *my* works, it had to be *** **bibliomaniac** ***! 
> 
> I swear to God, when I saw this person had left a comment on my work, I squeed so loud I thought my coworkers were gonna get whiplash turning around to see why I was bouncing and giggling and squealing like a small child who’d just gotten a puppy for Christmas (because seriously, this author is as adorable as a puppy, their WORKS are as adorable as a box full of puppies, and asdfjkl;!!!). 
> 
> Not even freaking joking, a good fourth of the inspiration I even had to write this series has come from this person and their CanonCharacter/Reader fics. They all reel you in with fluff and latch their claws into you with the feels. This person is an IMPECCABLY AMAZING writer and, if you like my writing style and the kind of romantic pairings I just mentioned (which are all so far SFW), **bibliomaniac** is the person you need to check out. 
> 
> You are seriously doing yourself a disservice by continuing to read this note when you should be over their checking out their work.
> 
> …why are you still here?! GO! NOW! I COMMAND YOU TO ENJOY YOURSELVES, BY THUNDER!!!


	4. Bluebell Breezes In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to start doing shout-outs at the end of chapters, but THIS ONE needed immediate attention:
> 
>  
> 
> **dongoverlord** over on Tumblr drew the most adorable 4-panel comic of a scene from “Snowed In in Snowdin”! 
> 
> -squee-
> 
> I swear, I squealed like a teeny tiny tot at Christmas when I saw it. Oh, man, just…That just got me right in the giggles when I was feeling so down last night. DOL, I cannot thank you enough for that.
> 
> …No joke, seriously, I saved the freaking pictures to my phone so I’ll have a pick-me-up when I have to face the crush that turned me down at work today. YOU’RE HELPING ME GET OUT OF A FAILED ROMANTIC RUT, BY THUNDER, SO ENJOY THY DUE PRAISE!
> 
>  
> 
> They are SUCH a good artist but, fair warning? Some of their stuff is **NSFW**. Actually scrolling down from their link put me knee-deep in Sinville, which is fine by me (yes, little owl in my avatar...I do have a filthy soul. No kinkshaming from me, dearies~) but may not be so fine for you.
> 
> So, since I keep my blog pretty much Teen-rated due to the rating of this series, you can skip the NSFW stuff and go there: **darklingimp.tumblr.com**
> 
> OR if you're of age and fine with NSFW, go check out the pic here ( **http://dongoverlord.tumblr.com/post/138517223596/some-pics-i-drew-for-this-wonderful-nicepants-fic** ) and then look at the rest of DOL's stuff.
> 
> (And no, I could care less whether it wasn’t exactly like the scene. The colors DOL chose really popped out from the picture and were an amazing treat to the eyes.)

Catching the River Person just as they were about to leave was an incredibly lucky break. Not only did it mean Bluebell did not have to slog through the garbage dump and bump around in the darker parts of the Waterfall region, but it also meant his travel time was cut in half. 

Even if he did have to hold on for dear life when the ferry sprouted legs and sprinted off like a water strider who had just finished an espresso.

Fortunately, he managed to make it to Hotland in one piece (and without losing his breakfast) within a few hours. He passed along one of the two (miraculously undamaged) Nice Creams he had brought along to the ferryperson as thanks, then stumbled off into the sweltering landscape.

Hotland may not have been the most creative name in the book, but it certainly fit. The land surrounding the Core was a barren cross of brick-red clay and solidified molten rock artfully arranged with puzzles that were designed to thwart possible human invasions. The whole region was contained within an enormous cavern, the ceiling of which was lined with stalactites (which up close were probably gargantuan, but from the viewpoint of one looking at them from the ground they seemed like mere quills dotting the sky). The terrain was split now and then by great crevices, at the bottom of which magical magma produced by the Core flowed in a myriad of reds, oranges, and yellows.

Bluebell wiped his brow as he hopped through the last of the steam-powered puzzles leading up to the resort. His short but thick fur may not have been perfect for the coldest spells in Snowdin, but it was certainly more suited for a cooler climate. He did not understand how the Royal Guards he had passed were able to wear such heavy armor in a place like this. Why, it would be like roasting nuts in a tin can -- only with a monster in place of food!

Looking up, his eyes followed the side of a tall building until his neck hurt from craning back so far. 

_Is that where he lives?_ Bluebell wondered. Upon investigation, he saw Mettaton’s image and the words “MTT RESORT” boldly marking the entrance. 

Yep, he’d come to the right place.

Making his way past the steady stream of monsters going in and out of the place, Bluebell ambled into the lobby and quickly located the fast food joint where his friend worked. Patting his pocket to make sure the Nice Cream was still there, Bluebell smiled and headed over.

The restaurant was packed and he had to uncomfortably squeeze past a couple of hefty hippo monsters just to get through the doors, but it was worth it. Immediately, his eyes settled on a familiar shock of orange fur and his smiled widened.

The cat monster, having dropped some change in the floor, did not see him approach. While he was bending over to pick it up, Bluebell strode over (thank goodness for long legs!) before he could notice. When he raised up, Bluebell was waiting with a ready grin.

Burgerpants was halfway through the customary fast food worker’s greeting before he realized who was in front of him. 

Instantly, his ears and tail shot skyward, his eyes widened to comedic proportions that would have been impossible for most monsters, and every visible hair stiffened and stood on end. The flesh under his fur must have flushed because his gingery coloring swiftly deepened to a hue matching the magma outside.

“B-Bluebell?!” he squeaked.

Forearms propped on the counter, Bluebell beamed at him, “Hiya, Burgy!”

Burgerpants surreptitiously glanced around Bluebell and said through a strained smile, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course,” Bluebell told him.

“Don’t you have a cart to mind?”

Bluebell scratched the back of his head nervously. “Yeah, well, ya’ see,” he said with a chuckle, “I closed up shop early. There wasn’t much business today so I figured I’d come over and see how you were doing.”

The cat’s smile strained slightly. “I’m…uh…“ he gulped audibly. “I’m kinda not supposed to talk to customers who haven’t bought anything.”

The rabbit’s ears drooped back sheepishly and he pushed away from the counter. “Oh, sorry then. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He glanced around looking for a clock but could not find one. “What time do you have lunch?”

“In about thirty minutes, why?”

The rabbit beamed in response.

“I can wait then,” he said throwing up an arm and waving as he ran out, “see you in thirty!”

If Burgerpants had any protests, Bluebell missed them entirely. All part of his plan, of course. He smiled as he patted the Nice Cream the side pocket of his cargo pants (his favored trousers having been relinquished because of the needed pocket room), before standing confidently with his chest puffed out and arms akimbo.

_Now, where’s a good place for lunch…?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know there were no hippo monsters in the game, but who knows what sort of monsters could have been there! “Hungry hefty hippos” -- say that ten times fast. I DARE you. 
> 
> And I bet you’re wondering how that Nice Cream hasn’t melted and leaked all over Bluebell’s pocket, aren’t you? Go ahead and guess. XD
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, couple of things: I’ll be closing up the naming polls once we reach Chapter 8. Someone suggested to me that “Elmer” was the canon name but I’ve yet to find proof, but I’m adding that to the list. So far, Craig and Cal/Calico are in the lead through both comment votes and messages/asks on Tumblr. Hurry up and get your votes in, sweetlings~!


	5. Lunch Dating...Start?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWZERS!!! I’ve gotten another wonderful fanart! :D
> 
> This one is from the wonderful **budgieflitter** over on Tumblr. Yet another amazing (and fortunately, I believe SFW) artist, I just love the soft pastel palette that you used for this. I want Macy’s dress, btw, I love those colors: **http://budgieflitter.tumblr.com/post/138549066362/idk-just-a-lil-drawing-to-awesome-nicepants-fic-by  
> **
> 
>  
> 
> Also, **COOLSKELETON95**? My coworkers heard me laughing THROUGH THE WALL on the outside of the breakroom yesterday thanks to you. Your comments are so freaking adorable, you know that? I just wanted you to know that.

The rabbit was crazy. Burgerpants was sure of that.

What on earth had gotten into Bluebell like that? And just how in the heck had he gotten to Hotland so fast, anyway?!

Burgerpants could not deny the broiling heat pouring off his face. Why, if he poured a little grease on his forehead, he could have saved the restaurant plenty on the energy bill and just fried all of the food from the heat of his own embarrassment! Of course, if he did that, he’d would probably get fur all over the Glamburgers, and he honestly didn’t want to find out what glitter and sequins burned into his flesh looked like. Daily doses of clumsily-obtained grease burns were more than enough, thank you!

He hadn’t even had time to protest, either. That dumb bunny had just bounded in after a freakishly busy lunch rush on the day after reopening and had nearly given him a heart attack!

(I mean, c’mon, surely the person you were thinking about popping up out of nowhere like that would have scared anyone! He was well within his rights to have screeched like someone had stepped on his tail. And he actually held back from doing so, so take that!)

There was hardly any time to think more on it as more customers wandered in and he found himself floundering to take and fix orders. When the clock chimed and he realized it was time for his break, it all came crashing back into him so suddenly that he thought his whole body was going to catch ablaze.

_Oh Asgore, what am I going to do, what am I going to do?_ he thought as he scurried around. 

The proper response to that should have been “breathe deeply and calm down”, but after working at Glamburger-slash-MTT-Brand-Burger-Emporium for as long as he had, his inner calming mechanism had malfunctioned. 

And right now? His “Mental Breakdown Meter” was well on its way to joining it.

He shook so badly that it took him three minutes just to get the knot undone in his apron strings, dropping it once the moment he shucked it off and then missing the hook on the wall entirely when he tried to hang it up. 

Then the “OUT FOR LUNCH” placard wound up skidding across the polished counter and over the edge because he had not realized how hard he had slapped it down. Freaking out, he lunged for it just a second too late to catch it -- and with such force that he actually vaulted _over_ the counter after it.

Thankful he hadn’t taken the register with him in his wild leap, he ignored his smarting left slide (Floor tiles do not hug kindly, by the way) and the half-amused, half- _be_ mused looks of the customers as he picked himself up and went after the sign.

…Which he then wound up accidentally kicking across the room.

He was nearly ready to rip his fur out by that point.

Grumbling to himself, he marched over to retrieve the little hard plastic escapee, but as he reached down to pick it up, nimble blue-furred fingers snatched it away.

Burgerpants looked up to see Bluebell smiling brightly, proffering the sign.

“Ready to go?”

At that point, all Burgerpants could do was force a strained, cracked smile and nod.

 

Hotland was not bigger than Snowdin Forest per se, but it certainly was more condensed. At least, in the area between the resort and the castle. It was also the most populated.

Having grown up in Hotland, the crowds didn’t really bother Burgerpants -- most of the time, anyway. Monsters in general were usually fairly considerate of one another and, as often was the case, often depended upon one another to survive. Monsters may have been less interdependent before the humans had driven them Underground, but nowadays, monsters thrived upon one another in one great symbiotic web. 

For the most part, anyway.

Still, while Burgerpants was used the crowding, Bluebell really should not have been. Hotland was loud, raucous, and always had something going on (even if it recent years the excitement was monopolized by Mettaton). As clustered as the buildings were, it was still fairly easy to get lost if one did not know the way.

So exactly where were they going…?

“Not far,” Bluebell assured him. The rabbit strode confidently through the streets as if he had lived there all of his life. Burgerpants followed warily, curious as to exactly what the rabbit had found. He hoped he wasn’t going too far because he still had a long shift ahead of him. The last thing he needed was to be exhausted going into another seven-to-eight hour run.

With a lingering sense of self-preservation in the back of his mind, Burgerpants listened to Bluebell chatter away freely. The rabbit seemed amazed by absolutely everything and everyone. All of the lights, all of the shops, all of the warmth of the area, and all of the colorful characters that made up the place -- he reveled in every square inch of his surroundings. All the while, his ears were going a mile a minute, his face was flickering through a variety of expressions, his coal-dark eyes were glimmering, and his tail was twitching in delight.

He was utterly fascinating to watch.

Slowly, however, a sinking feeling began to rise from within Burgerpants. The territory they were headed through, it was…

Gulping, he asked Bluebell, “What was this place you found?” 

Bluebell practically beamed. “It was a lucky find, really! I just sorta stumbled onto it. I mean, I figured you wouldn’t want fast food after working around it all day and I figured anything too classy would take too much time. But when I found _this_ \-- well, you’ll see for yourself! We’re almost there!”

As they rounded a corner, Bluebell whirled around and spread his arms out wide, matching his smile.

“Ta-dah!…Huh? _Where are you going?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***  
> I just want to thank you all for all of the wonderful comments and kudos you all have given me. But the fanart? Oh my goodness, I just feel so special that a silly little fanfic I wrote could inspire you. That…
> 
> Wow.
> 
> Just…wow.
> 
> Thank you all so very, very much. Each and every one of you -- even the ones who’ve been reading and not done anything -- are so wonderful. You all have helped me feel a lot better. Really, I cannot thank you all enough. I just want to reach through the screen, hug you, ruffle your hair (if you have hair, that is; otherwise, you’d get a smooch on your bald head because your special-er for not having hair!), and give you cookies/biscuits. Or cinnamon-butterscotch pancakes. I mean, heck, I’ve done pretty good with the pie recipe so far but I want to make pancakes like that now.
> 
> Like, seriously, I was in the middle of a conversation the other night and suddenly thought, “How would cinnamon-butterscotch pancakes taste…?”
> 
> …I’m odd like that. Shush. XP
> 
>  
> 
> I’ll likely be doing more shout-outs on the next work. I KNOW I said I’d try to cut down the comments on here and move them to Tumblr but you’re all being such sweet little dumplings that I cannot help myself!
> 
> Also, I know some of these chapters are short, but this fic is going to probably be about twice the chapter amount as the last one. Also, I likely won't post the Genocide-Run oneshot I have in mind until after I've posted more of this because there are characters I want to introduce and play on (possibly get you attached to) before I rip out your hearts. It'll make more blood squish out that way. ^-^
> 
>  
> 
> Also, to those of you who have asked, yes, I love Game Grumps, but the nickname "Burgy" actually comes from here (for those of you looking for scenes from the patch I was referring to): **http://mayadile.tumblr.com/post/138176231842/nocinnamonrollforyou-soooo-i-dunno-if-someone**
> 
> ****
> 
> Thanks be to the lovely **dongoverlord** for finding that link for me so I wouldn't have to look it up! ^-^


	6. Cat and Mouse, Only with Three Cats and No Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. Stars.
> 
> Third day in a row I’ve had fanart for this series. Only THIS time, it’s ANIMATED. Praises to **milkluvinweirdo** on Tumblr for their epically super cute GIF of Macy teasing Burgerpants, which you can find here: **http://milkluvinweirdo.tumblr.com/post/138633054054/animating-attempt-3-inn-keeper-burgerpants**
> 
> (Honestly, every scene I’ve had drawn is Macy either tormenting Burgerpants or watching over Burgy and Bluebell knowingly. Everyone loves the shippy devil rabbit lady! I suppose that’s because there’s a little Macy in all of us. ^-* )

Bluebell had no idea what had just happened.

One minute, Burgerpants was trudging along behind him, and the next -- poof! He hadn’t realized the cat could power-walk that fast.

“Hey, wait up!” he called out. When the other monster refused to slow, Bluebell hurried after him. It hardly took any effort to catch up to him, given the rabbit’s long strides, but his long legs were not as adapt at walking backwards on a crowded sidewalk as he tried to get Burgerpants to stop. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, friend?”

“Nothing,” Burgerpants spat curtly. His hunched shoulders, sweat-caked brow, and the hands crammed deep into his pockets screamed otherwise, however. “Let’s go someplace else--”

Suddenly, Burgerpants stopped short, his eyes widening to their tea saucer-sized distorted proportions. Almost instantly after, every hair on his body stood on end and his tail and ears shot skyward. 

Had something scared him?

Bluebell nearly tripped over his own feet. “Burg--”

Hissing a rather colorful swear, Burgerpants’ ears flattened against his head and he took off in a mad dash, bypassing Bluebell and careening into an alley half a block ahead. Bluebell’s ears quickly pricked to shouting across the street. When he turned to look, he saw a slim peach-colored feline wearing a vest-covered white collared shirt and a long brown pleated skirt calling to someone inside of a nearby store and anxiously waving for them to come out. She ran a little ways, trying to follow the path Burgerpants took, but kept alternating between taking a few steps and looking back at the store, as if unsure whether she should wait or go.

Not half a minute after Bluebell noticed the first cat a second one appeared, rushing out of the store with all of the intensity of someone in a furious rage. Another female, this one looked every inch a regular bruiser in her well-worn denim half-jacket, graphic-marked tank and shredded jeans. The gingery fur of her face fanned out into black-tipped lynx-like sideburns and her ears seemed pointier with the black tufts atop them, giving her a wild appearance. 

“What? Where?!” Bluebell heard Bruiser Cat screech. Librarian Cat (because, truly, she did remind Bluebell of a librarian, from the square-rimmed glasses down to the book clutched tightly in her arms) pointed a shaky arm toward the alley into which Burgerpants had ran. Bruiser Cat flashed a toothy snarl before darting off across the busy street, Librarian Cat close behind.

The moment the felines disappeared into the alley, Bluebell snapped out of his daze and gave chase. 

_Just what in the Underground is going on here?_ he wondered. 

He took off down the alley, coming out on the other side of the block in time to see Bruiser Cat set down a short lizard monster she had gripped by the lapels of her lab coat. Following the lizard’s shaky pointed arm, Bruiser Cat darted away. Librarian Cat bowed her head several times in apology and thanks before sprinting a few feet away, only to come back and, apologizing again, straighten out the lapels that the other cat had messed up. Bluebell shot the poor lizard lady a sympathetic look as he continued after them.

 

Several blocks and passing through a myriad of stores and alleyways later, the pursuit finally ended. 

Bruiser Cat, looking around angrily in all directions, called out to her companion, “Did you see which way he went?” 

Glancing around, Librarian Cat could only flatten her ears sorrowfully and shake her head. Bruiser Cat immediately kicked the nearest trashcan, sending it flying into a wall and spewing garbage everywhere, and swore. Seeing her eyeballing the next can, Librarian Cat flew at the other monster, pulling her back from her brutal assault on defenseless inanimate objects.

It was several minutes of soothing shushes before Bruiser Cat stopped struggling and Librarian Cat deemed her calm enough to allow herself to be shrugged off.

“Dammit! He always does this!“ Bruiser Cat said as she leaned against a dumpster.

“I know,” Librarian Cat said softly, “I know…”

Teeth gritted, Bruiser Cat pounded her fist once against the green metal before Librarian Cat took hold of her arm, chiding her over potentially damaging both herself and someone else’s property. Bruiser Cat stilled against the dumpster, her face buried against her resting forearm, as words unintelligible to himself poured forth from Librarian Cat’s lips.

Unsure whether he should interrupt the scene, Bluebell stood at the entrance of the alley for several long moments. He hated to see anyone upset, but the scene before him seemed too private to get involved. It wasn’t much longer before the two felines left anyway, heading out the opposite side of the alley.

The whole scenario had him utterly baffled.

Just who were those two monsters? Why did Burgerpants panic and run off when he spotted them? 

_Just_ what _was going on?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which is worse, angst-feels or cliffhanger-feels? Uweheheheh…


	7. Shrouded in Mystery -- Or Is That Just Garbage?

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the dumpster lid. 

Slowly, the green metal rose and Bluebell caught sight of a familiar flash of ginger fur. 

_Burgy!_

Instantly, he was at the dumpster, holding the lid up as Burgerpants awkwardly climbed out, pitching over the side and practically somersaulting onto the ground. Bluebell lowered the lid so the resounding thud would not bring unwanted attention (though he was surprised that the clanging caused Burgerpants’ foot catching the side of the dumpster in his fall had not brought the other cats back) and then turned back to Burgerpants.

The cat pulled a brown sludgy banana peel from his shoulder and made a disgusted face. “Are you alright?” Bluebell asked, running over to the other monster. Burgerpants shrugged off the Nice Cream vendor’s offer to help him up and pushed himself off the ground, grumbling about getting gunk on his uniform and hoping his boss didn‘t lock him out of the hotel like last time. “Who were those monsters?”

Burgerpants cast a hard glance toward where the other felines had gone, then turned away. “Nobody, it’s nothing,” he said lowly. “Let’s go before they come back.”

Ignoring Bluebell’s baffled sputtering, the cat headed out of the alley. Bluebell followed duly behind, now and then looking over his shoulder and around at the monsters surrounding him for his friend’s pursuers. They managed to make it back to the resort area without further confrontation, thought his plans to cheer up his friend had been significantly dampened.

Still, he wondered: Could those cats be…dangerous? Apart from children’s squabbles, very few monsters actively sought to physically hurt one another, even when resources had been the scarcest. The rare ones that did usually had something terribly wrong with them and were often a hair’s breadth away from falling down. 

It didn’t mean Burgerpants wasn’t a target of one of those rare cases, however.

Perhaps it was all a misunderstanding? If that was the case, Bluebell was more than happy to help straighten that out. 

“I really don’t mean to pry,” he asked, “but--”

Burgerpants cut him off, “I said it was _nothing_!” he snapped. “Just leave it alone already.”

 

Now, the Nice Cream vendor was hardly one to get angry. 

There were very, very few things that could even skirt the idea of making him angry. You really had to push his buttons to get him to that point (more like clip the buttons off and throw them in the river, but now we’re just talking semantics).

Upsetting him, though? That was another story.

He’d been a sensitive bunny -- a bit of a crybaby, really -- and he’d grown into a, well, no less of a sensitive rabbit but certainly one better at hiding his not-so-positive feelings. His ears were still too honest for his own good, though. Right now, they flumped down against his back. Fortunately, most people couldn’t tell the difference between “apologetic” ears and “oww you just stabbed me in the SOUL” ears, especially when coupled with a polite smile.

So he plastered on the guilty expression (not so very hard to do, considering he _did_ feel highly concerned that he hadn’t gotten involved before now) for Burgerpants and walked him to the door. It was all he could do not to give into his screaming protective instincts and press him further, but Bluebell forced himself not to. They really hadn’t known each other for long and the cat’s whole body was warning him that pushing any further would mean he might cut Bluebell off entirely. 

Burgerpants tromped along, his shoulders hunched, his face a grim mask as he kept his stare focused on the ground save for the occasional glance behind to see if they were being followed. He refused to speak again until they reached the restaurant.

He did allow the rabbit to open the door for him, though.

Not looking up at Bluebell, he muttered, “I’m sorry I messed up your plans for today. Guess you came to Hotland for nothing.”

Bluebell shook his head. “I wouldn’t call getting to see a friend ‘nothing’,” he assured Burgerpants, “regardless of how brief it was.” 

The cat stilled for a moment and shock flashed over his features. Slowly he dared a cautious sort-of glance up at Bluebell before quickly shaking his head and letting out a huff, grumbling something about too-nice rabbits and needing a smoke. 

There was a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips, and that was all that Bluebell needed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Nice Cream.

“Here,” he said with a broad smile, “since I didn’t get to take you out to eat, you can still have lunch.”

Burgerpants gave him a funny look. “What is that?”

“A Nice Cream!” The rabbit announced, beaming. “Go on. Take it!”

The cat looked him over warily, eyeing the proffered treat with suspicion. Initially, he seemed as though he might turn Bluebell down, but a loud growling from the cat’s stomach quickly convinced him. Gingerly, he reached out and plucked the Nice Cream up with his thumb and forefinger, surprise registering on his face almost instantly.

“It’s…still cold?” he said in awe. “You’ve been carrying this around all day and it’s _still cold_.”

Bluebell chuckled. “Of course, silly! It’s made with Snowdin snow and ice magic, after all.” He leaned in, one finger to his lips and whispered. “Don’t tell anybody, though. That’s my part of my secret recipe.”

Burgerpants raised an eyebrow, amused. “’Secret recipe‘, huh? What’s the rest?”

Bluebell stood up straight and stretched his arms out wide. “They’re made with a smile!” The cat let out a sardonic snort. “No, seriously,” Bluebell tapped the top of the Nice Cream, “there’s a positive message written on the inside of the wrapper.”

At Bluebell’s prompting, the cat undid the package and bit into the frosty treat. He didn’t have nearly the amazed look that his last customer had but he seemed impressed. Slowly, he undid the paper with one hand and looked at the message. When he did, he slowly lowered the treat from his lips and, brow knitted, read aloud:

“’Reach for the stars’?” 

Bluebell could feel his face heating up a little. Laughing, he said, “Yeah, uh, I got the idea from y--”

He had wanted to explain how Burgy’s dreams had inspired that particular message (though admittedly, it was Sans who gave him the idea to turn it into a pun), but his cheery mood quickly vanished as he watched the cat’s face morph. Burgerpants’ eyes, nose, and mouth metamorphosed to almost Lilliputian size against his otherwise unchanged head, making him seem so small and withdrawn that Bluebell instantly realized he must have hit a nerve.

Nervously scratching the back of his head, he quickly added, “I-I’ve been meaning to add more jokes lately. I’m not that good at them, so I could really use some help,” he looked at Burgerpants hopefully. “You’re really good at stuff like that, so how about it? I’ll bring you free Nice Cream for your trouble.”

Burgerpants’ facial features phased back to normal as Bluebell continued to babble without sounding too much like he was trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d made by unintentionally upsetting Burgy’s feelings. He must have overdone it, because Burgerpants finally waved him off.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it! Right now, I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“Great!” Bluebell beamed. “I’ll see you later!”

Burgerpants just swatted at the air and headed off into the restaurant, leaving Bluebell standing there smiling. He watched Burgerpants disappear into the kitchen, sending him off with a final farewell wave and smile as he himself walked away from the entrance.

The moment he was out of sight, though, his entire countenance changed.

 

The Nice Cream vendor was hardly one to get angry, but there was on thing for certain that could get him riled up like nothing else:

_No one messed with his family, and **no one** messed with his friends._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy cats, y’all done *rubber ducky noise* now!  
> And the mystery of the Never-Melt Nice Cream has finally been solved!
> 
>  
> 
> I’ve been having a lot of problems with the notes portions when I upload lately, so I may just stick to posting at the end as I had originally intended. It may have to do with the fact that I’m updating from my phone. I dunno.
> 
> **LAST CHANCE TO DECIDE ON BURGERPANTS' FIC-CENTRIC NAME!**  
>  Please tell me your choices if you have not already, either here or at **darklingimp.tumblr.com**!
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, another shout-out time to another wonderful artist! The lovely **naventho** has added to the surprising amount of hype over this series and has actually drawn a scene from “HKiH”! Yah! Such a pretty picture, too. I hope to see their continued artistic endeavors soon, but for now, here’s their art: **http://naventho.tumblr.com/post/138709013664/fanart-drawn-for-the-absolutely-adorable-fanfic  
> **
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you all for all your support and have a wonderful day!


	8. Making an Entrance

Bluebell wiped his brow as he wandered around the city. The intense heat of Hotland was starting to get to him, and it was only made worse from the low, seething rage that boiled within the pit of his stomach. The accompanying nausea did not help matters much, either. 

It had been a long time since the Nice Cream vendor had felt so angry and, despite his best efforts to quash it down and remain calm, it threatened to bubble through. He _knew_ something was not right and it bit hard into his soul when he thought of the panic he had seen on Burgerpants’ face.

Of that utterly lost look back at the pond.

Logically, he knew he probably shouldn’t be stalking after Burgerpants’ pursuers like this, especially when he had no idea exactly what he was up against, but his paternal instincts flared higher with every step, his body’s irritation with the heat only aggravating matters all the more. 

Unfortunately, after retracing his steps and searching the surrounding blocks where he last saw the cats, his hunt proved fruitless.

A buzzing in his pocket temporarily snapped him out of his thoughts and he dug out his cell phone.

 

_‘Mazing Macy: Blue? You’ve missed lunch and Cotton said your cart wasn’t in the clearing. Where are you? Are you alright?  
_

 

Bluebell frowned. That’s right -- he had left in such a hurry this morning that he had just left Snowdin without so much as a text stating where he was headed.

 

**Blue: im in hotland**

 

This, of course, was not a sufficient answer to one very nosy big sister, so the quick series of pings that followed were hardly surprising. She had been on his case about Burgerpants ever since the cat had shown up on his doorstep. Why, she had embarrassed him so much that he had been reduced to a wholly cobalt-colored silence! Seriously, he was a grown rabbit and her teasing had nearly driven him to weep.

(By Asgore, he wished he could erase having ever told her about getting a glimpse of Burgy in that half-undone bathrobe! He’d been so flustered that he spent ten minutes running in and out rooms downstairs, grabbing everything he could get his hands on -- completely arbitrary stuff he didn’t need -- as a poor excuse to focus on in order not to listen to her. A good portion of that time, unfortunately, was Macy pointing out things he didn’t need to clean up Burgerpants’ bloody nose and laughing when he trudged back a humiliated mess to put whatever it was away. In all, it had been about three or four failed attempts to avoid her teasing, if he recalled.)

Replying with a few details of the days’ events might have saved him more teasing in the long run, but he was willing to sacrifice his dignity to his sister’s shippy imagination if it meant not worrying her. Macy was an absolute _beast_ when it came to her ice magic, and she was not nearly as secretive about her rage as he was. No, knowing her, she would have all of Snowdin coming with her if Bluebell even alluded to his verified worries.

He felt the surge of heat to his face was penance enough for omitting the truth to her.

After shooting off a reply that he’d be home later if the visit didn’t go _too_ well (he was certain that he flushed straight down to his toes with such a…lewd implication), he hastily stuffed the phone back into his pocket and decided to try another search tactic.

Burgerpants had seemed awfully leery of going near that diner. Could it be that the cats worked there? Bluebell decided to find out.

 

It took a while, but he finally managed to get back to the diner. Bluebell had all intentions of going in with a polite façade until he found the cats before interrogating them fully. 

Unfortunately, a native Snowdinite covering as much ground in Hotland as he did that day without being used to the temperature was never a bright idea.

By the time he actually stepped through the doors of the little diner, his head felt like it was going to float right up to the ceiling. He took three steps inside before his eyes decided the world looked so much better with black polka dots.

“Ugh, I gotta sit down…”

Grabbing his head, Bluebell groped along the wall with his free hand in an attempt to find a seat, but playing “Beat the Heat” (for the love of Asgore, he’s really been hanging around Sans too much lately, hasn’t he?) between his dizziness and finding a chair was not a good idea. Especially when dizziness was winning.

The moment his hand brushed the top of a chair, his legs gave out and his whole world steadily began to grow darker…

 

 

His body…caught on air?

“Whu…?”

_…ight? …ir?_

Bluebell blinked blearily around but couldn’t make out anything besides darkness. For a moment, he thought he had blacked out, but his face felt awfully pinched and it was hard to breathe for simply dreaming. His body moved and light poured back into his vision as he was forced backwards…into a seat? Then, amidst sounds that sounded like monsters speaking underwater, his head was tipped back and a cold sensation trickled into his mouth. He was too out of it to actually swallow, with his delirious attentions suddenly focused on the blur of a warm pale pink in front of him.

He saw a glimpse of orange in front of himself before a frigid surge of icy water hit him square in the face, going up his nose and clinging to his limp ears.

Slowly, the voices around him became clearer, and they slowly became familiar:

“You didn’t have to do that!”

“Well, he’s coming around, isn’t he?”

“He is? Oh! Oh, my word! Are you alright, sir?!”

Blinking owlishly, Bluebell tried to nod but only succeeded in making his head fall heavily to his chest. 

_Ow_ , he thought as his teeth jarred painfully and his head slammed hard into his sternum, _I didn’t know my chin was that pointy--_

As he contemplated whether he had bitten his tongue or not, two soft peachy paws cupped his head and gently tilted his face toward their owner. He was met by two concerned catlike eyes behind a pair of thick, dark-rimmed glasses.

“Well?” he heard a gruff female voice state. “What’s the verdict, Purrl?”

Ignoring the other monster, the one holding Bluebell’s attention (literally) asked in a soft yet firm voice, “Where are you from?”

Groggily, he replied, “Snowdin. Why…?”

“Just as I thought,” the monster said, turning around to speak to their companions. Bluebell vaguely began to notice the other blobs of color coagulating into monster forms before a glass was forced into his hands. “Here. Drink this.”

Slowly, with the other monster helping steady his grip, Bluebell brought the glass up and managed to down the water.

“Easy…Easy…there you go,” she said. “You’ve overheated, is all. Most likely dehydrated, too. It’s fairly common to tourists who aren’t used to Hotland’s climate. A little water and rest and you should be fine.” 

As the cold water pooled into his stomach, the fuzziness retreated from Bluebell’s surroundings, leaving behind the interior of a restaurant and several worried monsters, nearly all of whom were wearing the same tan vest, white shirt, and tan pants/skirt combination. He looked up from the chair he had been forced into and it slowly crept into his brain just who had been mothering him.

His eyes widened.

_It’s one of_ them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually wrote most of this while I was in dire need of a nap. Zzzzzzzzz…
> 
> At some point, we’ll get back to Burgerpants’ POV. I promise. I’m just having too much fun writing Bluebell right now. 
> 
> Also, funny mental image? Bluebell’s face was pretty much smushed against Librarian Cat’s chest when she caught and was trying to steady him. I may bring that up in the fic later for the lolz but for now, it’s just an added extra funny for all of you~
> 
> (and of course, accident or not, that MAAAAAAY have been Bruiser Cat’s reason to just throw the glass of ice water harder in Bluebell’s face. Just saying.)
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO WE FINALLY HAVE A NAME!!!
> 
> For the remainder of this fic series, Burgerpants’ will also be known as **CAL/CALICO**. If you’d like to see the results of voting, you can find them here: 
> 
>  
> 
> And we have yet another wonderful set of pictures from dear **budgieflitter** again! Absolutely wonderfully hilarious, too, especially the ones of “SIiS”’s ending. 
> 
> (Though my favorite has to be the admitted “reveal” picture -- the one of the scene where Burgy actually admits aloud what he thinks about Bluebell. That one gave me especially warm-fuzzy feels when I saw it yesterday. Just the sort of pastel wash you chose for the color palette fit’s the whole airy-dreamy feel I wanted to incorporate into such a fluffy fic, y’know? The smattering of snow, too, just made it fit so well! -squee giggles-)
> 
> Anyway, here they are: **http://budgieflitter.tumblr.com/post/138737591742/here-we-are-again-all-the-things-here-i-drew-to**
> 
> ****


	9. Meet the Purrington Sisters

Bluebell’s ears flicked backward and it was all he could do to quell the swell of protective fire within him. He forced his ears to droop (because having them stand normally was impossible when he was this riled) and put on a polite façade. 

It was far easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar, after all.

Smiling wearily, he allowed the cat monster to coax the empty glass from his hands. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I apologize if I’ve caused any trouble.”

Librarian Cat -- or was it Waitress Cat now? -- returned the smile and shook her head. “You are no trouble. This happens all the time, honestly.”

The peachy-furred monster eeped when an orange paw clapped her hard on the shoulder. Bluebell’s eyes flashed and his ears twitched backwards. _It’s that bruiser of a cat!_ he thought. _I was right. This must have been why Burgy didn’t want to eat here._

Bruiser Cat stepped forward, a toothy (albeit slightly vicious) grin on her face. “If you’re really sorry,” she told him, “then you should buy something! C’mon,” she extended a paw to him, “we’ve got the finest selection this side of Hotland! No reservations required.”

Bluebell hesitated for a moment, wondering if he really should trust someone who had frightened his friend, but a loud growl from his stomach answered for him. Bruiser Cat smirked and took hold of his hand, helping him to his feet so sharply that he nearly tripped over his own long limbs. Figuring it was best to go along, he smiled and allowed himself to be pulled along.

They sat him down at the counter, ushering him into a high-backed stool (“In case you feel dizzy again,” Librarian Cat said). Despite his stomach’s grumbling, he was feeling a bit nauseated from overheating, but he figured it would be easier to learn more about these two characters if he could watch them in their home turf. He ordered a simple cold juice and salad and watched as Bruiser Cat shooed the formerly worried attendants back to their jobs before heading to a backroom herself.

Librarian Cat hung around behind the counter, cleaning this and that as she made small talk. Bluebell figured she was simply keeping a watchful eye on his health from her motherly behavior earlier. She asked a few questions about how he was enjoying Hotland and what all he had seen, making suggestions about this venue and that.

After a while, Bruiser Cat came out from the back, this time in the same uniform as the others. Well, sort of. She fidgeted with a bowtie but could not seem to get the sides even.

“Purrl, can you fix this?” The peach-colored cat tutted and immediately took over, undoing the bow and retying it perfectly before then fluffing out the lynx-like tufts of her cheeks. Bluebell noticed that the fur around her nose was speckled black, almost like a smattering of furred freckles. 

Bruiser Cat grinned and ruffled the other’s head fur, prompting whining mewls from Librarian Cat and laughter from her own lips.

“Your name is Purrl, then?” the rabbit asked. “I’m Bluebell.”

The pink cat smiled sweetly. “Actually, it’s Purrline,” she corrected. “Purrline Purrington. I know, it is a silly name. I always thought it was too pretentious myself, but Mother thought the firstborn must represent the family business in all forms.” She said this with an almost posh flair, her lips pursed and one finger enunciating each syllable. Bluebell figured it must have been fairly routine a speech to provoke mocking.

“I think it’s nice,” Bluebell told her, sincerely smiling. Purrline smiled gratefully.

Bruiser Cat stuck out her hand, “I’m Tabby, Purrl’s sister,” she said. “Well, Tabitha, really,” she added with an eye roll, then gave him a momentary stink eye, “but don’t let me hear you calling me that. It’s _way_ too frou-frou for me.”

Bluebell reached over and pumped her hand a few times, noticing she had a fairly strong grip (though, thankfully, not a crushing one). “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet’cha,” Tabby returned, grinning widely. 

Introductions over, the sisters exchanged a quick business report before Tabby excused herself, heading to the kitchen. Bluebell winced as the bruiser feline let out a wild whoop of greeting, startling some poor worker so badly that they dropped the pot they were washing back into the sink, causing it to clang deafeningly against the other dishes and send a spray of soapy water into the air. The orange cat chuckled and clapped the monster on the shoulder in apology.

Purrline looked on fondly before turning back to Bluebell. “Tabby’s always been the wildcard among us,” she explained. “She’s always stirring things up, be it food or the mood.”

Bluebell chuckled, nodding. His twin sisters were the same way.

With the bruiser sibling out of the picture, Bluebell found it easier to relax. He decided it would be easier to work on one sibling before moving onto the next. Purrline, obviously, was the less volatile of the two, and she seemed like a genuinely caring person, even back in the alley when she tried to calm down her sister. 

Yes, talking to Purrline seemed like the best course of action.

He decided to make a bit of small talk first, just to test the waters.

“Mind if I venture a guess? You are the oldest and she is the youngest.”

Purrline chuckled lightly. “Almost right. I am the oldest, but Tabby is the middle child.”

Bluebell cocked his head to the side, his ears thankfully upright once more -- making his questions seem far more innocuous and less like a subtle interrogation. “You have another sibling? Do they work here, too?” He wondered if this cat was going to be an even more intimidating monster than Tabby.

Purrline shook her head. “He used to,” she said, turning around to pick up a glass from the rack to polish, “but not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, that’s because he works at another restaurant,” she told him. “You know Mettaton’s Resort?”

Bluebell’s ears perked up and he nodded. 

“That cozy little corner restaurant off from the lobby,” Purrline continued. “It’s the one they just renovated. It was all over the news recently. Anyway, he works there.”

_NOW_ she had Bluebell’s undivided attention.

The similarities between the sisters and his friend started to match up. Tabby certainly had the same coloring and build as Burgerpants, but he definitely shared his sleek tail and taller height with their eldest sister. 

It was only then that Bluebell noticed that, on the wall hanging over Purrline’s head, nestled among various other portraits and framed newspaper clippings above the wet bar’s mirror, was a picture of slightly younger versions of all three siblings sandwiched between two older felines that must be their parents.

So Burgy was running from his own sisters? Granted, Bluebell sometimes felt like doing that to Macy, but he seemed genuinely terrified. And Tabby had been pretty upset when the chase ended, too, so…

He decided to pry a little. Ju _uuuuust_ a bit.

Taking a nonchalant sip of his juice, he asked, “Why don’t you guys work together here? Seems like it would be more fun to have the three of you together in one place. Then again, I’ve got a lot of siblings so I suppose I’m biased.”

Purrline frowned as she scrubbed vigorously at a water spot. “Oh, I would love for my brother to come back here again, but he wanted to move on to bigger and better things. He wants to be an actor.” She smiled fondly as she slowed her polishing, and then turned and pointed toward the opposite end of the room. “You see that stage?”

Bluebell looked. 

Sure enough, at the end of the diner was a stage. Well, it was more of a raised platform jutting out like a trapezoid from the wall, but the couple of mic stands and stools on top and the row of lights at the edge of the platform distinguished its true purpose.

“When we were kids,” Purrline began, “we used to act out skits from our favorite films up there. As we got older, I would make up screenplays and Tabby would direct. Our brother, though, he would never fail to steal the spotlight from both of us! Tabby and I lost interest in performing for ourselves, but the last few years before he moved, our brother would always perform on Friday nights.”

By this point, Purrline’s eyes were practically glowing with delight.

“Oh, you should have seen him, Bluebell,” she told him. “He had such talent!”

That was for certain. Bluebell couldn’t stop the grin overtaking his polite smile as he imagined what a younger Burgerpants must have been like on an actual stage, even if it was just as the free entertainment accompaniment at a local diner.

But one very important word set the alarm bell off in his mind…

 

“’ _Had_ ’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sisters have finally been introduced! Which is your favorite so far and why? Please tell me in the comments below!
> 
>  
> 
> Now, for a couple of other things…
> 
> I’ve been considering doing a podfic of this series. The only internet I currently have is my phone and the odd trip to the library, so if I did, the updates would be sparse and likely several at once. Dear **bibliomanic** reminded me how much fun I used to have storytelling and editing audio and video, and since it had been a while since I last did a dramatic reading, I decided to attempt it yesterday and liked it far better than what I used to. (Thank you for the inspiration, my friend)
> 
> So by all means, let me know if you would like to hear a podfic of this work. I’ve never done one before but I would be happy to give it a try.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, for a few shout-outs that I have been meaning to get back to:
> 
>  **GracefullyDeclines** , I am very sorry I did not say this sooner, but your comment the other day truly warmed my heart. I am very glad that you gave my work a chance and that I managed to get you to like something that usually isn’t your cup of tea. Also, you should never feel the need to apologize for enthusiasm! Write me a book if you’d like; I ADORE long comments! Thank you so much and I’m glad you felt I do the characters justice!
> 
>  **Animegirl966** , heh heh, I’m glad I could drive you bonkers with cliffhangers. Honestly, I’ve yet to find a recipe for butterscotch-cinnamon pancakes (though I’ve found one for cinnamon and one for butterscotch), so I’m just going to mess around with the idea when I have some free time. I’ve attempted the pie twice from a recipe I found on Tumblr and, goodness, it’s a long recipe but both times I made it wound up great in terms of taste and story. Would you like the recipe?
> 
> And **shapeshiftinterest**? You’ve hung in there for ages on this story. Bless you for that, your helping me get my Tumblr up and running, for connecting me with fans and wonderful ideas. You have been such a huge help. Thank you so very much.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank all of you! Your comments and kudos make my day, you precious little cinnamon rolls. Keep on keeping on!


	10. A Sister's Plea

Purrline’s face fell softly, her eyes lowering and her lower lip slightly quivering as she looked down at the glass and rag in her hands. She glanced toward the kitchen to see if anyone was watching. Finally, she took a deep breath and released it, her words coming out a bit shakily.

“You seem like a nice guy, Mr. Bluebell,” she said, “and as someone with younger siblings, you could understand a fellow elder one’s worries.”

Linking his elbows over the counter, Bluebell leaned in to meet Purrline halfway, his ears quirked forward to catch her every word.

Sighing, she told him, “My brother hasn’t been doing so well lately. I know technically a lot of us have to grind a bit at a lower-level job to get somewhere, and I know he originally took that fast food job in order to gain some recognition from his idol, but it’s been so hard on him! I hated seeing my baby brother so tired all of the time, but he assured me that it was just because they were having start-up issues. He got on right when Glamburger opened, you see…”

Another clang from the kitchen and Purrline whirled around, pretending to choose another glass to polish as she glanced clandestinely over at the kitchen. When no one appeared, Bluebell prompted her to continue.

Leaning against the counter while she swiped the rag over its top and whispered, “It’s been _two years_ , Mr. Bluebell,” she said, “and nothing has changed. If anything, my brother has been working longer and harder at that job than ever before. He stopped talking to his friends, he won‘t let us come near him anymore, and he hasn‘t been back for a Friday performance since---”

Sniffling, she dabbed her sleeve cuff at her eyes.

Immediately, Bluebell’s inner fire began fizzling out and guilt began seeping in like the damp chill of Waterfall. He was instantly grateful that he had decided to take the logical approach to talk things out instead of making a snap judgment. At the same time, a sharp pang twisted in his soul, making him both extremely thankful that he had followed his instincts in coming to visit Burgerpants…and also, incredibly, deeply concerned for his wellbeing.

Why would Burgy cloister himself off from everyone like that? 

 

_if i was you, pal, i‘d go with my gut_.

 

Remembering Sans’ words filled Bluebell with determination.

Sucking in a deep breath, he boldly asked, “Is that why you two were chasing him earlier?” 

He had expected her to whip around, mouth agape and sputtering at having been caught. Instead, Purrline turned her solemn eyes on him for a long moment before glancing at the kitchen and up and down the bar to make sure no one was listening in. Finally, she turned back to him and nodded.

The realization slowly dawned on Bluebell: 

_She must have seen us together_ , he decided. 

For a brief moment, he glanced at his remaining food, wondering if Tabby might have slipped something into it like people in the human movies sometimes did. He instantly felt silly for thinking that because they had all of the opportunity in the world to tie him up and let that bruiser Tabby go to town on him when he’d fainted earlier.

Facepalming, he reminded himself that he _really_ needed to stop watching those detective dramas that Macy loved so much. They gave him enough nightmares as it was…

Rubbing his hands over his face as if to wash away his shame at having his façade seen through, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell your sister I knew your brother?”

“Tabby is…intense,“ Purrline said after a moment of careful deliberation. “ _Very_ intense. She has roughed up more than one of Calico’s old friends trying to get information out of them or convince them to keep trying to get through to him.”

Thinking back to the poor lizard lady Tabby had questioned on the street, Bluebell gulped. Yeah, he could see that.

“Wait…his name’s _Calico_?” he asked incredulously. Dear Asgore, how cute was that? Ca~li~co. Calico. Cal---It just rolled off the tongue so easily. Perfect name for a fluffy cat monster like him.

“Well, yes,” Purrline said matter-of-factly. “How did you not know that? Aren’t you two together?”

Bluebell spotted the cobalt darkening his fur in the mirror behind Purrline right before he glanced aside. Stroking down the fur standing on end on the back of his neck, he babbled. “A-ah, we’re not like that! We’re just friends. Honestly, I only met the guy about a week ago, and--”

The chuckle that escaped Purrline was so soft and fluttering that it almost ended in a purr.

“Yet you already care for him,” she noted. “I am not surprised, really. Before Calico changed, he was so very easy to love.” Bluebell’s face heated up even further. “Don’t worry,” she told him, “I won’t tease you. That’s always been Tabby’s department.”

Bluebell felt a relief break over him like a wave on the shore. “Thanks.”

Purrline spurred off to wait on a few more customers at the opposite end of the bar while Bluebell shifted around his salad, stuffing in a mouthful as Tabby made a quick run out of the kitchen, shouting that she would be back after she helped their delivery-monster move his cart that had gotten stuck.

Once the eldest cat had finished taking orders to the kitchen, she walked back over to Bluebell.

“So if Bur--I mean, Calico,” Bluebell corrected himself, “has been isolating himself, then why did you two chase after him?”

“Honestly? I reacted on impulse,” Purrline admitted, her face flushing slightly. “Normally, I am fairly calm about everything, but I suppose Tabby has rubbed off on me over the years.” She sighed exasperatedly, shaking her head. 

“Why not just call him? Or visit him at work?”

“We have _tried_ calling him. Calling, texting, mailing letters, sending people with messages -- nothing has worked. Tabby’s been barred from the resort because she got caught trying to break down his apartment door, and I am afraid that he will lose his job if I bother him at work too much longer. I have wanted to speak to his boss about it, but Calico was worried I might mess things up for him.” With a resigned shrug, she murmured, “The most I have been able to do is ask one of the housekeepers and the security monsters to keep an eye on him and tell me how he’s doing. At least he still takes the food I leave outside his apartment…”

As Purrline dabbed her eyes on her sleeve cuff, Bluebell reached up and clapped a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Bluebell told her. “I promise.”

Purrline sniffled a little. “Are you sure you can?” she asked. “I mean, you’re a Snowdinite, and I really don’t want you to push yourself--”

The feline rambled on with various excuses, but the obvious desperation and hope in her eyes that someone might be able to reach her brother drowned out all her words. Bluebell smiled brightly.

“It’s fine! Besides, I’ve been meaning to push into new territories with my own business.”

Purrline’s face perked up and she thanked him profusely. After exchanging phone numbers, Bluebell decided to tell her how he had met Burgerpants and some of the misadventures the poor cat had during his visit to Snowdin. He was warmed by the shocked expression and happy tears that glossed over the eldest sister’s eyes when he told her about how much of a hit Burgerpants had been at the inn, recalling at her prompting the flourish with which her brother acted. The tears finally spilled over freely when he reached the ice-skating lesson, and she was clutching tightly to her sides and shaking with almost breathless glee by the time Tabby walked back through the door.

“I swear, they need to fix that fracking sinkhole soon or I’m gonna do it myself -- by tossing them in it!” The younger sister did a double-take when she noticed Purrline’s behavior and started laughing herself. “Well, now! What’s got you in such an all-fired good mood, eh?” She slipped behind the counter and looped an arm around her sister’s upper-back, tugging down the much taller feline into a half-hug. 

Purrline dabbed the tears from her eyes, her sheepish smile contrasting greatly against Tabby’s broad toothy grin. “Oh, Bluebell here was just telling me about life in Snowdin,” she said, subtly winking at the rabbit. Tabby’s grin widened to nearly her ears, displaying a row of shark-sharp teeth.

_I guess Burgy isn’t the only one with distortion magic_ , Bluebell thought.

“In that case,” Tabby turned to Bluebell, “the meal’s on the house.” She flicked a stubby finger against the edge of his plate for emphasis. Bluebell tried to protest but Tabby waved him off, refusing to hear it. “No way, Rabbit Man! I haven’t seen my sister laugh this hard in _months_ , and we’ve had comedians in here left and right!”

Bluebell thanked her and stood.

“You better come back again soon, Rabbit Man!” Tabby told him. Purrline nodded in agreement, still smiling softly.

Promising he would, Bluebell threw up an arm and headed out.

 

His worries validated, it was time to head home and regroup…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we’re getting somewhere! Of course, we have only graced the tip of the iceberg that is Burgerpants emotional complex, so stick around while we drag that out of the deep!
> 
>  
> 
> Don’t forget: if you have any prompts for one-shots for this series, or anything else you’d like me to write, please post them in the comments below or head on over to Tumblr and ask me there. You never know when something you say might wind up a story, so go for it!


	11. A Helping Hand

His trip had left the Nice Cream vendor feeling highly determined. 

He moved his business out of Snowdin, spending most of his time keeping shop in Hotland before realizing that maybe that move was a bit too much. For one thing, Mettaton pretty much had a monopoly on nearly all business on that side of Hotland, and Bluebell really didn’t want to go too far away from the river in case he needed to hurry back (having so many young-aged siblings meant someone was bound to have an accident and need help at least once a week, and even if Macy and his parents could handle it there was always that dreaded “what if“, y‘know?). 

Secondly, whenever he was in Hotland, the Nice Cream vendor found himself spending more time plotting with Purrline over her brother than actually trying to sell Nice Cream (though Purrline was sweet enough that she always bought something, sometimes taking one back to her sister).

Not wanting to get prematurely caught in cahoots with Burgerpants’ sister (and not let his obsession get in the way of keeping his fledgling business afloat), Bluebell was reluctantly forced to relocate back to Waterfall. It was a happy medium between both home and Burgy, and while he would have been _happier_ to have been closer to Burgerpants, he really didn’t have much choice.

Besides, it let him see his friends.

The newest one just so happened to be the small, furless child who had convinced him to follow his instincts.

One day, they showed up with Sans in tow.

“Hey there, friends!” Bluebell greeted. “Good to see you both!”

“same to you, pal,” said Sans. The child holding his hand smiled and nodded in agreement.

Bluebell smiled. “I see someone has made a friend.”

Chuckling, Sans said, “yeah. guess you could say they’ve got me wrapped around their little finger.” He swung their linked hands slightly. “all five of ‘em, actually.”

Both Bluebell and the child laughed. It was always nice to see the older skeleton sentry. Sans had a way of calming everyone down, even if it meant his cheesy puns riled them up a bit first. At Sans’ bequest, Bluebell dug out a couple of Nice Creams for the duo and watched as Frisk, whose name he had learned only a few days prior, gleefully managed to undo the string of their Nice Cream on their own. They proudly held up their opened prize for Sans and Bluebell to see. Bluebell smiled brightly and Sans nodded his approval.

As Frisk gnawed away on their treat, Sans turned back to Bluebell. “so how’re things going with your cat buddy?”

Bluebell crossed his arms over the top of the cart and sighed. “Not as well as I would have hoped.”

“really?”

Frisk raised an eyebrow, now interested in the conversation, and exchanged a glance with Sans.

“whaddya mean, blue?”

Rocking himself a little on his propped-up forearms, Bluebell pondered over his words for a few moments. “I think he’s working too hard,” Bluebell told Sans. “Like, much more than he should.”

“how so?”

“Like eight-hour shifts turning into ten-or-twelve-hour ones.”

Sans’ pupils winked out, leaving his eye sockets dark holes, and he made a choked noise. Frisk made a confirming sound, nodded once, and then pointed at Bluebell before flicking their finger sharply to the right. The rabbit cocked his head to the side, trying to comprehend. Each time he got it wrong, Frisk shook their head. Finally, the child frowned and punctuated their gesture by stabbing the air to the right adamantly several times.

“You want me to go visit him again?”

“Mm!” Frisk nodded.

Bluebell sighed, ears drooping slightly. “I’m not sure how much good that will do. It’s very hard to find a break in his schedule. I don’t want to overwhelm him, y’know?”

Once again, Frisk’s tiny finger jabbed at the air and they looked at him admonishingly. 

“You really think I ought to keep visiting him?” Frisk nodded. “Even when most of the time he won’t come with me anywhere?”

That was one of the other problems Bluebell had encountered: He never could seem to find a good time to go to lunch with Burgerpants. 

The cat’s schedule seemed to shift at his boss’ whim and depended upon whether anybody else actually wanted to work that day -- meaning the days in which Bluebell went to invite Burgy for lunch often evolved into an hour’s worth of pacing outside of the restaurant, waiting until either Burgerpants mouthed an “I’m sorry” or some customer passed him an apologetic note quickly scrawled by the cat.

The few times he had hung around that long, by the time Burgerpants got his break, he looked so frazzled that he could hardly speak and would often pop away for a smoke. Most of the time, he completely forgot to check his phone until nighttime, if he even remembered then.

In the entire two weeks that he had been trying, nothing Bluebell had attempted had worked. The most he had been able to do was drop off a free Nice Cream now and then.

When he told Frisk this, they pointed to the cart and gave Bluebell a thumbs-up.

“I should just keep doing what I’m doing?”

One hand shot out, fingers splayed, and rocked side to side. _Sorta_. Bluebell’s eyebrow raised.

“Then what should I do?”

Frisk plopped the wrapper down on the cart top and jabbed their finger onto it. When Bluebell didn’t get it, Frisk bit their Nice Cream between their teeth and let their hands fly freely. He missed most of the words, however.

“frisk says you should write him something nice,” Sans translated. Frisk started tugging on Sans hand with both of theirs while bouncing in place. The skeleton monster looked down with one brow bone raised. “what’s that, kid?” Tugging the Nice Cream out from between their teeth, Frisk began pointing rapidly between it and themself. With an encouraging nod, Sans said, “good idea,” before looking up to Bluebell.

“What did they say?”

“frisk says they want to help.”

Bluebell grinned widely and pushed himself up from the cart. “Well, what are we waiting for?” 

He dug in a box that was attached to the cart, soon producing some papers and the markers he used for his Nice Cream wrappers. He uncapped one of the markers and handed it to Frisk, who eagerly grabbed it and started to draw away…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to give a little background here that, while is going to be reiterated early in the next story, is going to be relevant somewhat here but I’m not sure I will be able to fit in. So, taking a leaf out of Terry Pratchett’s work, this is going in the footnotes!
> 
> Alright, so, without giving too much away, I’m setting this up the way it would be for a small child in real life:
> 
> I don’t think an adult would be able to cover all of the Underground in a couple of days, especially with so many interesting things to discover and getting worn out by close-calls and restarts. A child especially would get worn out much faster than an adult, and if they were alone in a new place and found safe haven with friends, most wouldn’t be willing to bolt the first chance they got into new suicidal territory (a.k.a. meeting up with Undyne).
> 
> That being said, I’m thinking that Frisk would meander their way through the Underground, sticking close to whatever and whoever made them feel most welcome before they felt called to continue their journey.
> 
>  
> 
> So, for the main portion of this series, Frisk is going to have spent some time with Toriel before going on to meet the Skeleton Bros, whom they are now staying with at this point in the work. I may explore Frisk’s part in this in a one-shot later, but for right now, I want to keep the focus on the development of Nicepants. 
> 
> We cool?
> 
> We cool. 
> 
> We so cool we ice cold, sweetlings.
> 
>  
> 
> I’ve brought back Sans, everybody!
> 
> \--holds up skeleton, cuz smol skel is smol--
> 
>  
> 
> Unfortunately, he’s probably not going to be more than briefly mentioned, but since Macy got a cameo, so does Sans!


	12. Nice Cream Break

Ever since the run-in with his sisters, Burgerpants had fallen into an increasingly uneasy paranoia. Ashamed as he was to admit that he was hiding from his own family, it was necessary. Once Tabby got it in her mind to do something, come Hell or high water, she would do it -- even if it meant infiltrating Burgerpants’ workplace or apartment!

Thankfully, for a time, he had managed to keep the more brazen of his two siblings from sneaking into the resort.

Slinking around outside, however? That was another matter entirely.

Tabby never had quite mastered the concept of “subtly”. When she was a young child, she had been a very clumsy, roly-poly sort of kitten with hardly a whiff of coordination the way his more graceful mother and eldest sister had. No, she had taken back after their tigerish paternal grandfather, so her bulky musculature hardly had given her all of the problems of a prepubescent monster without the luxury of the accompanying height. 

Truly, Tabby wound up with the **short** end of the genetic stick.

Burgerpants swiped his paws over his face and mumbled, “I swear, Bluebell’s rubbing off on me with those crappy puns of his. He’s been hanging around that skeleton way too much.” 

He gave the backdoor another sharp tug, making sure it was secure. Tabby would have had him that time if Bratty hadn’t started giggling, making him follow the alligator’s line of sight to the fire escape that Tabby had climbed up and had prepared to pounce upon him from. 

Her crazed screeching was soon drowned out by Bratty and Catty’s laughter and a few loud, barking commands of an additional voice. _Security must have heard her_ , he figured. It was honestly surprising nobody had informed his boss of the matter yet. If they had, Mettaton would have surely fired him for being the indirect cause of this disruption of business. 

The security monsters had pity on Burgerpants, at least. They hardly ever had a chance to do anything exciting besides break up a crowd when Mettaton needed to leave the resort or cart off a monster who had too much to drink and decided to take a shower under the lopsided fountain, so they told him it was good practice for if a human ever showed up.

_As if a human would ever make it this far into Hotland_ , Burgerpants thought, letting out a snort.

The mercy of the other resort workers aside, Tabby was beginning to be a pain. Nearly catching her brother must have filled her with determination, because she had been spotted around the resort at least three times a day since their chase. It was driving Burgerpants absolutely bonkers because not only did it mean she could very well confront his boss and try to get to him that way, but it also meant that there was no way he could hang out with Bluebell. 

The last thing he needed was for Tabby to start harassing the Nice Cream vendor.

Speaking of Bluebell, it was nearly time for him, wasn’t it?

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, Burgerpants watched as it ticked over to two o’clock. Almost instantly, he heard the door open and the soft tread of furry feet padding across the Mettaton-patterned tiles. Without even turning around, Burgerpants knew it could only be one person.

_Like clockwork_.

Turning around, he was greeted with the welcoming sight of Bluebell’s cheery wave and million-GOLD smile. Since Burgerpants’ lunchtime fluctuated depending upon how much traffic the restaurant had, he hardly knew when he would have time to eat with Bluebell. At least, that’s what he told the rabbit. Truth is, by the time he got through with Tabby’s near-misses, his boss’ visits, and the handful of regulars who always seemed to want to annoy the non-existent fire magic out of him, he was usually so bitterly distressed that he just wanted a smoke and a place to curl up in and hide from monsterkind for a while.

At any rate, the briefer Bluebell’s visits, the less likely Tabby was to catch him or his boss was to find out that he was consorting with a customer who that overgrown calculator would see as little more than a perennial window-shopper.

_And the less likely Blue’s going to dig into my past_ , he thought grimly.

That was what worried him the most: Bluebell might find out that he was far more of a fractured individual than he let on. 

It was so much easier to wave off his tiredness as exhaustion from a just-finished lunch rush than it was to explain how downright miserable he was. Texting had never been his favored method of communicating, but lately it had become his bosom friend. There was so much freedom in being able to text because it was harder to interpret the feelings of the person sending them if he chose his words carefully enough. He had the added bonus of his boss’ strict cell phone usage rules as a cover for not texting during work, as well as not wanting to wake Bluebell’s younger siblings with a late-night phone call.

Of course, the rabbit had multiple times offered to just step outside to call, but Burgerpants almost always used the “too tired” excuse whenever the rabbit insisted. He hardly wanted to project a dull image during his off-hours, having more of an all-or-nothing sort of personality, but there were times he caved just so he could listen to that cheery, energy-laden voice.

Those times Burgerpants found it both incredibly heartening that he finally had someone’s positive attention after so long, and incredibly difficult to believe it would last. 

That he deserved something lasting.

Honestly, it was surprising that Bluebell hadn’t just given up on him already. Burgerpants knew that it had been a long time -- almost a month -- since he had been able to laugh so freely or tell such animated stories face-to-face (Had his Snowdin visit really been so long ago?). He hardly had anything to offer save a few paltry jokes now and then, and most of those he had unrepentantly swiped from the resort’s resident comedian, Chilldrake.

Somehow that seemed to qualify him for being Bluebell’s humor advisor, though.

“Heya, Burgy!” Bluebell chimed. Burgerpants couldn’t help but crack a smile. He hated that freaking nickname, but hearing it shortened and coming from Bluebell made it bearable. 

_And cute_ , he admitted, feeling the slight prickling of his facial fur rising from the heated flesh beneath. Geez, why does everything he say have to be so cute?

Glad that the restaurant was empty of other patrons, Burgerpants skipped the customary employee greeting and went straightaway to their semi-casual, sorta-friendly, sorta-business talk. “What have you got today?”

“I’m attempting another flavor.”

Burgerpants visibly winced. 

_Oh, Asgore, not again!_

That poor sweet rabbit meant well, but following every suggestion a customer gave him was never the brightest idea. He knew he “shouldn’t knock it ‘til he tried it” as his father used to say, but there were some things that ice cream was never meant to taste like.

Spaghetti was one of those things.

(Bluebell had apologized for making him sick. Burgerpants hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he spent the remainder of his shift with a horrible case of indigestion. It was the least he could do to keep Bluebell‘s continued attentions.)

The Nice Cream vendor easily spotted the look of spaghetti-flavor-induced terror on his face and had mercy. “Papyrus didn’t suggest this one, I promise,” he said.

“Sans?” Burgerpants warily inquired. The ketchup-flavored Nice Cream hadn’t been too bad, actually. 

Bluebell shook his head. “No, this one was suggested by a new customer,” he said, offering the now sorta-dreaded treat. Gulping, Burgerpants took it, placing the “Out to Lunch” placard on the desk before moving over to one of the corner tables out of site of the lobby entrance, just in case Tabby was still lurking about. Carefully, he undid the wrapper string and took a hesitant bite.

Was that…butterscotch? 

No, not quite. There was a zing of spice to it, adding a sensory break to the smooth mellowing tang of buttery sweetness.

“Cinnamon and butterscotch,” the cat confirmed. Bluebell nodded, taking a seat at the table, his back to the door. Burgerpants was additionally grateful for the rabbit’s taller stature further impairing his sister’s potential line of sight. Burgerpants took another nibble out of it, taking in the crisp icy texture before allowing the morsel to move around in his mouth, melting over his tongue and trickling a cool coating liquid down his throat. He sighed happily, nearly purring.

Yes, that flavor was _definitely_ going to be a success.

“Keep this one,” he told Bluebell. “Heck, petition the king and have it trademarked.” 

(Something like that was too good to let his boss’ get his grubby metallic hands on.)

Bluebell beamed. “I knew you’d like that one!” His ears drooped inward, almost making a heart shape above his head. Burgerpants swallowed heavily and bit into the next bite, hoping the refreshing chill would take down the burning in his face. Why oh why did that blasted bunny have to be so freaking cute…?!

Honestly, it must have been something in the Nice Cream. While he didn’t think Bluebell would do something so underhanded, he honestly would not put it past Macy to slip some sort of aphrodisiac into the mix. 

There was _no freaking way_ Bluebell could have been so utterly adorable when they first met. 

Sure, Burgerpants admitted that the rabbit was fairly attractive physically, but had he noticed just how much at the start, Burgerpants probably would have hardly been able to speak to him (much the same as being around the vendor girls). Added to that were Bluebell’s warmth and genuine happiness at the cat’s own positive responses to his work. The combination was doing things to Burgerpants that made him want to either get up and bolt through the nearest exit or leap over the table, wrap his arms around the rabbit and just _cling_.

(Crushing on him or not, Burgerpants wasn’t quite such how the rabbit would react to being suddenly tackled. He probably would take it horribly wrong, though, if Burgerpants just darted to the back and scaled the first stock shelves he saw.)

Ugh, why was he feeling like this? He blamed Tabby. He blamed Macy. Hell, he even blamed _Sans_ for making him realize what his feelings for the Nice Cream vendor were in the first place!

After a few more bites and some intense steeling of nerves, Burgerpants eventually managed to silence his inner panic. Mostly. Enough to where he could get back on track as to why he was even dealing with potentially drug-laced Nice Cream to begin with.

“Joke time?” Bluebell asked hopefully.

Nodding, Burgerpants agreed, “Joke time,” and unfurled the wrapper.

 

He nearly choked when he saw, instead of a joke, a crudely drawn picture of two guys hugging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  This chapter started out so angsty but wound up “fluffling” out so much that I had to roll with the cute. It’s thanks to all of the inspiration I’ve had from all of the adorable fanart and encouraging comments I’ve received from all of you! 
> 
> And now “fluffling” is a word. I misspelled fluffing but decided to keep it.
> 
> Fluff*ling: v. “To turn a piece of literary work from a darker, edgier piece into something light-hearted and entertaining.”
> 
>  
> 
> It’s also an apology for the blip in updating. You know how that pesky little thing called “life” gets in the way of writing and posting schedules sometimes. Anyway, should my schedule ever be interrupted or you wish to know progress on an up-and-coming work, check my Tumblr. Unless my net has flubbed up, I should have a progress update posted.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I’m freaking obsessed with butterscotch-cinnamon everything now. Made two as a going-away gift for two coworkers, another for a visiting friend, and a fourth because I really took a craving for it. I may post the results on Tumblr, but the recipe I love the most is found here: **http://lvl1-chef.tumblr.com/post/130137142073/undertale-butterscotch-cinnamon-pie  
>  **


	13. If I Were a Flower, Would I Be a Touch-Me-Not?

“You call this a joke?” Burgerpants deadpanned. 

Upon showing the wrapper to Bluebell, the rabbit’s ears stood on end and a high-pitched yip slipped through lips pressed tightly shut. Cobalt splattered the fur of his cheeks as he laughed nervously.

“Ah, n-no, that’s not--I mean! Uh…heh heh…”

Burgerpants raised an eyebrow at Bluebell stunted words before glancing back down at the wrapper. _It looks like a child drew it_ , he decided. Probably one of his youngest customers, maybe even one of his own siblings. After all, several of the jokes were very obviously bone-related, so he knew Bluebell was having help from Sans. Nothing to get too torn up about.

Slowly, however, an idea crept into his mind.

_I wonder…how it would feel to hug him?_

The thought made his soul pulse.

Apart from helping him stand up a few times (and an accidental sleep-nose punch), the two of them never really made physical contact. It was both equally relieving and disconcerting: 

Relieving in the sense that Burgy, who really had not had much physical contact since before he stopped letting his sisters come to visit, and disconcerting in the fact that Bluebell could be _extremely_ affectionate around his siblings and friends but…not so much around him.

Not to say that the rabbit monster _wasn’t_ affectionate towards him in other ways.

What else would you call the battering of his phone with a multitude of texts and phone calls containing little more than jokes, bunny-related anecdotes, and other useless drivel every day? And then there were these little Nice Cream sessions when the restaurant was quiet and there was a lull in Tabby’s antics…

_Don’t even think like that, Burgerpants_ , his mind warned him. _He’s going to be the same as everyone else eventually. As soon as he finds out what you’re really like, he’s going to head back to Snowdin and dig a burrow in the snow just to get away from you._

After all, hadn’t Bluebell’s texts gotten fewer over the past couple of weeks? Sure, he could calculate in the time the two of them had these “joke reviews”, but it hardly seemed so simple. No, Bluebell MUST be realizing that Burgerpants is less compatible as a potential love interest and more as just a pal, or merely a business consultant.

_That’s got to be it_ , the cat thought sadly. _Of course. Of course…_

His soul pulsed hard once more before the happy, bubbly feeling waned into the biting sting of misery.

He glanced back up at Bluebell, who seemed to still be struggling for a coherent answer, and decided to take pity on him.

“So which customer added this one?”

Bluebell snapped out of his unintelligent babbling and smiled awkwardly, ears flattening back sheepishly. 

“Frisk,” he admitted. “Since they gave me the idea for the butterscotch-cinnamon Nice Cream, it was only fair they get to make the joke. Though I’ll admit I probably should have checked their work before letting them wrap it.”

_Ah, right_ , Burgerpants smirked slightly, _Bluebell’s newest customer._ It made perfect sense that the kind rabbit would try to make a child feel involved.

Burgerpants shook his head. “Next time, just be more clear about the instructions,” he told Bluebell, quirking a sly smile. “Although, you could always charge for message customization. Like, let someone add their own message to a wrapper whenever they make a purchase.”

Bluebell’s ears shot up. “That’s a great idea, Burgy! Oh,” his ears flopped down again, “but everyone’s already used to helping for free back in Snowdin…”

“You’ve got stomping ground in Waterfall and Hotland, too, right? Just use Snowdin as your production headquarters,” Burgerpants suggested. “If someone wants to walk all of the way from Waterfall or Hotland to write a Nice Cream message, then maybe you could make an exception.”

A wide, beaming grin split the rabbit monster’s face. “You really are a genius, Burgy,” he told the cat, standing up. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait to try out your idea! I bet it will work great!”

Chuckling, the cat pushed out his chair and stood. “Yes, well,” he said, throwing his arms out in a dramatic, pseudo-humble shrug, “when you’re in the fast food business as long as I’ve been, you--”

His words died in his throat as he felt his ribs constrict tightly and his sight disappeared as he was buried in a flash of blue fur and radiant warmth. His breath hitched as he realized that two long, lanky arms had wrapped around him and drawn him close to their owner. Unfortunately, while his mind logically put together that, yes, his face was buried against a bright canary yellow shirt and, yes, those were Bluebell’s hands on his back and, hey, was that a whiff of snow and cave pines he smelled, they did not entirely register the implications of what was going on.

So he stood there, a paralyzed lump, his arms still poised like a buzzard in mid-flight, analyzing the color scheme of the Nice Cream vendor’s uniform and fur like it was the greatest scientific inquiry known to monsterkind.

Whenever Bluebell let go and whatever the rabbit said after he would not remember because his brain had completely been wiped of all valid reasoning capabilities. 

It wasn’t even until one of his regular customers poked him in the shoulder that he had any idea he had been standing there like that for ten minutes after his lunch break was over.

 

All he knew was that he had never felt his soul so wholly _quake_ like that in his entire wasted nineteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out shorter and fluffier than I had originally planned, but I suppose it will make a suitable belated Valentine’s Day (and International Fanworks’ Day!) present for all of you lovely readers~
> 
> Thank you all again for your wonderful comments, kudos and fan arts! Since I’m snowed in (yet again), unless the power goes out, I’m going to try to get as far into this fic as I can while I have time. For those of you also snowed in out there, stay safe and try not to travel unless you absolutely must!
> 
>  
> 
> Remember to check out my Tumblr at **darkling imp.tumblr.com**! Whether you have a suggestion for this series, a writing prompt, or just want to “shoot the breeze“ so to speak, I’m all ears! ^-^


	14. Ninja Cat, Go!

For the next five days, Burgerpants was filled with an undying determination to hang out with Bluebell, and no amount of Mettaton-or-Tabby-induced exhaustion was going to stop him.

He cleaned up the empty pizza boxes, tossed the used soda cups and grimy receipts, and finally took out the trash. One of the resort housekeepers managed to find him a used vacuum cleaner that, apart from a few sputtering moments where it hacked back out part of what it had sucked up, was still fairly useable. It was a hefty sum once he had repaid the other monster, but the extra GOLD was worth the time it would have taken to scavenge at the dump or make price comparisons and potentially run into Tabby. 

After he’d managed to scrub the days-long caked scum off his dishes and put them away, reorganize his CDs, and wash the walls (only to take out some of the pot smell, because he had neither the money nor the willpower to paint over their discoloration), he stood back and -- for the first time in ages -- felt a tiny spark of pride at what he had accomplished.

Fortunately, Bluebell had not cut ties with him over his hugging faux paus. 

Finding a day on which his boss, sister, or some lackadaisical new employee did not wind up extending his time at work was the problem.

So, exactly five days, two hours, forty-nine minutes and fifty-two seconds after he got the idea into his head, Burgerpants picked a day, messaged Bluebell, and started praying that whatever deity out there with some mote of compassion might take pity on him and let his plans go right for once.

Oddly enough, they did.

The hype for the reopening of the new, improved Glamburger (slash-MTT-Brand-Burger-Emporium) had faded thanks to the Underground became distracted with Mettaton’s newest episode. 

His boss had brought the Royal Scientist, Dr. Alphys, onto his quiz show as a participant (i.e. broke through the wall of her home and televised the whole silly mess that ensued), along with some kid in a striped sweater. Burgerpants was four questions into the show before he realized that, oh, hey, that was one of Bluebell’s customers, and several minutes after the show ended before it sank in what Mettaton had called them.

(Burgerpants had serious doubts as to Frisk being a human and wrote it off as his boss giving the kid a “serious” role as part of a PR stint. After all, despite a rather embarrassing question about her love life -- which could have been either improvisation for ratings or his boss’ cruel idea of a joke -- Dr. Alphys had mimed Frisk answers throughout the show. He hardly believed that Bluebell would have hung out with a murderous creature like a human, and Frisk seemed to act like any other monster child.)

Regardless, with demands for more filling up social media, Mettaton had been busy preparing for the next of his “human”-related programming -- and, therefore, had remained out of Burgerpants’ hair. Since the next episode was supposed to be a “surprise broadcast”, most monsters stayed home with their eyes glued to their television sets, making sure they wouldn’t miss out.

Additionally, an hour before Bluebell was scheduled to make his appearance, Tabby’s stalking around outside and eyeballing the resort entrance was interrupted by Purrline. The eldest Purrington sibling showed up, hands on hips, and gave Tabby a thorough verbal dressing-down before carting her off _by the ear_ in a gesture so very reminiscent of their mother that it made Burgerpants himself wince out of sympathy (his poor pinched ears had many a time lead him away from whatever naughty behavior he pulled as a kitten).

This meant Burgerpants had a nice, quiet, and uninterrupted shift with scarcely a customer and plenty of time to spend having a mental breakdown.

His eyes glanced between the kitchen clock, his phone (because Mettaton could go suck an egg at this point for all Burgy cared), and the doors so often that his head began to swim.

_Oh, Asgore, don’t let me screw this up_ , he pleaded, the pulse of magic through his veins steadily quickening as the seconds ticked away. _What if he doesn’t like my apartment? What if he doesn’t like any of the movies or food I have? What if Tabby tries to scale the side of the resort again? What if--_

Wiping his hands over his face, Burgerpants took a deep breath and let it out. Looking at his reflection in the polished glass of the countertop, he realized that his facial features had contorted to ungainly extremes again: snarl only barely a grin by the slightest upward tweaking of his lips, his eyes wide, his pupils and nose mere pinpricks, and his lower eyelids raised so high that he could have pulled off a very accurate impression of a chicken blinking.

In other words: He was the very picture of “calm”.

 

…if “calm” had stuck its tail in an outlet and had 5,000 volts run through it, that is.

Shaking his head, he repeated a few deep breaths to calm his mind until his facial features returned mostly to normal. 

_C’mon, Burgerpants, you’ve got this_ , he told himself. _You’re just hanging out. It’s no different than when you were in Snowdin, with the exception that you’re not about to freeze to death, there is a negative number of bunnies running around, and there won’t be any overprotective skeleton neighbors or shippy big sisters to make me far more stressed than I already am._

He had just coaxed the one eyebrow back down from its voyage to his scalp when he noticed that his image wasn’t the only one being reflected.

This time, there was no stopping the yowling screech that tore out of him as he leapt back, one hand clutching at his chest. Bluebell, wearing his ever-present smile, waved at him. Burgerpants hoped he would forgive him for not waving back -- or at least, using his paws to do so. His tail and every hair on his body were doing a pretty decent job in their place.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Steadying his rapid breathing, Burgerpants’ mind raced, and he prayed the past few moments had not been the sort in which he had decided to monologue to himself. 

Swallowing hard, the cat wiped a paw over his face to smooth down his fur, and then pulled off his hat, swiping away the sweat that had beaded there (though whether they were from his jumpscare or borderline panic attack, he neither knew nor cared). 

“You ready to go?” Bluebell asked. Burgerpants nodded, slung his apron and hat onto a coat hook, and sauntered around the counter as if he hadn’t nearly dropped dead from fright.

 

The trip to his rooms was, thankfully, uneventful, and his fur had gone back to its original position. Though he commented most of the way on how big and glamorous the resort seemed, Bluebell, thankfully, did not dawdle. He questioned Burgerpants’ ninja-like sneaking from the restaurant to and up the first floor stairway, but the cat easily wrote it off with a grin and laugh, jokingly playing it off as a role he had seen in a movie recently. 

It was far easier to pass off a little white than to say, “Oh, I’m hiding from my sister. You know that crazy psychotic-looking cat that chased me a few weeks ago? Yeah, that one.” 

He was pretty sure that little revelation would go over like a pregnant pole vaulter.

Fortunately, Bluebell bought it, even joining in at one point. Burgerpants was tempted to snap at him for the seriousness of the matter, but quickly found himself, yet again, surprised at the rabbit’s agility and speed. 

How the Nice Cream vendor managed to tuck in those lanky legs of his and make a _roll_ look graceful, he didn’t know. And while Burgy shouldn’t have been surprised that a _rabbit monster_ could hop up the stairs six steps at a time, he was still highly impressed.

He was also fairly sure his face flushed when Bluebell stuck the landing in a half-crouch at the cat’s feet before looking up at him with a smirk that would have been more characteristic on Macy’s face than his own. 

(Not that Burgy was complaining, mind you. But that was one sight he had to forcibly shove to the deepest, darkest parts of his mind because it was conjuring up mental images that, while he would fully love to indulge at a later time, was definitely NOT something he needed right when he was about to hang out with in a platonic, maybe-slightly-romantic-though-far-more-chaste-than-where-his-mind-wanted-to-go setting.)

Burgerpants used a playful “point and shout at a random object” distraction as an excuse to get a much-needed headstart sprint to his apartment.

_I shouldn’t be thinking this stuff. We haven’t even been on a date, yet! By Asgore and all his royal ancestors, why is this happening to me right now? Oh my--_

He stopped short, nearly tripping over his own feet as a blue blur darted around him and halted right at his rooms. Bluebell just looked up at the number placard on the door before looking down at Burgy, smiling.

“Apartment 420, right?”

Burgy, his breath still heaving, just stared. “Yeah, uh…wow, you’re fast. I don’t think I could sprint like that if my life depended on it.”

Bluebell took an appreciative look at his feet. “I guess you could say it **runs** in the family,” he said, lifting one foot and waggling his toes. Burgerpants couldn’t hold back a snicker.

“Sans teach you that one?” he asked playfully.

“Nah, that one was all me.”

Chuckling, Burgy drew out his card key and slid it through the scanner. “That was good,” he opened the door, letting it swing inward. Flipping on the light switch just inside the entryway, the cat made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Yes, I realize the numerical reference. That’s why it’s there. I by no means shy away from a spot or two of immaturity if there are lulz to be had.
> 
> Anyway, I probably could have gone on longer with this chapter, but Chapter 16 is going to be quite long and I didn’t want to overwhelm anyone just yet.
> 
>  
> 
> …Might want to go stock up on some fluffy stories to prepare you for the next few chapters.


	15. Dating...Ur, Hanging Out -- START!

Burgerpants tried to swallow down his nervousness as Bluebell stepped into his apartment. 

Closing the door, he made one last “somebody-help-me-I’m-doomed” face at the wall before summoning up what remained of his bravado. Donning the sly smirk he often used for his “charismatic” persona, he shrugged back his shoulders, puffed out his chest, hooked his thumbs into his trouser pockets, and moseyed over to Bluebell, who was preoccupied with looking over the apartment.

“Welcome to my humble domicile,” he said with a slight bow. He frowned slightly when he realized just how sparse his place was. Clearing his throat, he straightened and turned toward the kitchen, beads of sweat already gathering on his brow. He was across the kitchenette in an instant and hoped Bluebell wouldn‘t question his sudden interest in the fridge. “You, uh, want something to drink? To eat? I have…um…stuff.”

Burgerpants only just barely overcame the urge to facepalm. _Way to go, idiot_ , he mentally chided himself. The mental image of his boss standing behind him, slowly clapping came to mind:

_“Bravo, Burgerpants! Three points for that eloquent speech! In fact, that line was such a marvelously crafted piece of dialogue that I feel inspired for it. I believe I shall make a new song all about it. I will call it, ‘Burgerpants the Emotionally Constipated Poet’! Here, allow me to put it to verse…”_

 

Banishing the screechy mechanical gibberish from his mind, he cast a cautious glance over his shoulder to see Bluebell looking at him.

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” said the rabbit. “Do you have any tea?”

Burgerpants felt his confidence perk back up. He deftly snapped his fingers. “You got it, buddy,” he said, heading over to heat up the old dented metal teapot that remained permanently on the range top. After he’d put some water on to boil, he strode back into the den as boldly as he could manage -- although it quickly turned into a fast gait with the nervous energy still coursing through him -- and headed for the bookshelf that was filled with a smattering of VHS tapes and DVDs.

“So what do you want to do?” Bluebell asked.

“I figured we could watch some movies,” Burgerpants told him. “Nothing _Keeper of Crowns_ length because we’ve both got work tomorrow, but I’ve still got some good stuff. What do you like to watch?”

Burgerpants mentally patted himself on the back for how smoothly he slipped that subtle inquiry into his line. He checked off the mental list in his head:

Showing he had awesome hobbies by watching good, non-MTT-inclusive movies? Check. 

Showing he was thinking of the other person’s life and preferences? Check.

Oh, yeah, his dating power was off the charts. At least he hoped it was, anyway.

 _If this was a date_ , he told himself. Which it WASN'T. _I can practice, though_ , he decided, compromising with his hateful little internal Burgerpants.

Bluebell seemed pleased enough. “I’m used to mostly watching kids’ films ‘cause of my siblings,” he admitted almost shyly, “but I like a little of anything, so long as it’s not too…grotesque.”

He scrunched up his nose at the word, ears flicking backward as he winced. Burgerpants had to turn around to stifle a laugh. Bluebell was just too cute. 

“Whatever has a happy ending,” Bluebell added.

The Nice Cream guy liked cheery movies with happy endings? It didn’t surprise Burgerpants in the slightest. Still, it gave him an idea of what to look for. He searched through the VHS tapes and picked one, popping it into the player built into the old television set.

 

Not long after the movie started, a high, piercing whistle reminded Burgerpants of the tea kettle. He excused himself and set about pulling down the seldom-used teacups and saucers from the corner cabinet. Reaching into the back, however, his fingers brushed a small round tin. Curious, he pulled out the little circle, his breath slightly hitching as he saw the lid. It bore ornate, black-inked silhouettes of two cat monsters, one holding a teapot and the other a covered dish, ready to serve the candelabra-bedecked table between them. Above the monsters, written in a fine curlicue hand, was a very painfully familiar logo:

_Purrington’s Place_

Brushing his thumb over the lid, he looked fondly down at his mother’s script and father’s decorative inking. Reverently, he brought the tin to his nose and cracked open the lid. Even after many months of being hidden away, the tea inside still smelled as fresh and vibrant as ever, thanks to the preservation magic his mother had placed on it. He gently slid the lid back into place and reached up to put it away.

A burst of laughter stilled his arm and he glanced back at Bluebell. The rabbit’s laughter died down and he looked over at Burgy before flashing him a smile. 

“Do you want me to pause it until you get done?” the rabbit asked. Burgerpants shook his head no, grinning reassuredly until the rabbit turned his attention back toward the movie. Casting one last, long look at the tea tin, Burgy decided against using it and pushed it into the back of the high shelf.

_Maybe on another night_ , he decided. 

If there was another night, that was. 

One look back at Bluebell enjoying himself, and he felt a glimmer of hope that there might be.

 

The movie choice turned out to be a good one. While a bit on the silly side, the cheesiness of it only added to its comedic value. Though it was a movie about monsters made by humans, the monsters themselves were fairly accurate depictions of real monsters rather than complete racial distortions made to instill fear in human movie-goers. If anything, it took the usual monster stereotypes humans depicted and turned them into something more…realistic. 

Bluebell spent a good portion of the film laughing uproariously. At one point, Burgerpants had to pause to movie because Bluebell had draped himself over the arm of the sofa and nearly hyperventilated.

“Oh, c’mon!” Burgerpants said, one arm gestured toward the screen. “You know that if a human popped up in the room like that here, you’d be screaming and scrambling to get away, too!”

Through heaving, nearly breathless fits of laughter, Bluebell sputtered out, “But it’s a kid!”

“Yeah, a _human_ kid!”

“Burgy,” Bluebell sat up, still clutching his middle and struggling to breathe through his mirth, “the _twins_ are scarier than that thing.”

“Only because they are little trip hazards.” 

This proved to be the wrong thing to say, because Bluebell fell right back against the couch, arms curled tightly around his torso and one long leg knocking against the coffee table as he curled up, indulging in another merciless giggling fit. Burgerpants just rolled his eyes and flopped back against the couch, waiting another three minutes until Bluebell was coherent enough to begin watching the rest of the movie.

The rest of the film sparked a running commentary between the two of them, ranging from how similar some of the characters looked to their neighbors (“Seriously, Loox acts just like him. They could pass for cousins.”) to the more business-philosophical (“Do you think someone could actually harness energy power from screams? I don’t mean some psychotic person going ‘I FEED UPON YOUR PAIN’ but actual energy?”).

By the time the credits started to roll, both of them were grinning: Bluebell as widely as usual, and Burgerpants, smug smirk gone, actually had a rare, true, soft smile on his face.

When was the last time that he had actually enjoyed having a houseguest? One that wasn’t lecturing him over the messy or sparse state of his apartment, or telling him how he should be more social, or just coming over to get a few hits on a blunt with him.

_When was the last time this felt…normal?_

His facial fur prickled slightly as he glanced over at Bluebell, his smiling face practically radiant against the dinginess of his dull, most barren apartment. Even though Bluebell was a whole cushion-and-a-half away, Burgerpants could feel the heat emanating from the rabbit monster. The body warmth and light of his smile seemed to just reach out and envelope the cat, delving into his chest and swirling around his soul, coaxing its steady humming into a thunderous cadence.

He turned away sharply, knowing his face had fully flushed by now. Thankfully, he spotted the perfect opportunity to mask it: Video Outtakes.

Let out a harsh, forced laugh, he hugged his middle and pointed on arm at the screen. “Oh, man, I forgot these were on here! Hah hah ha hah!”

Actually, he truly _had_ forgotten how much the bloopers amused him, and quickly his fake laughter turned real. With Bluebell practically howling beside him, the giddiness of his pulsating soul increased, and laughing provided a perfectly acceptable means to expunge the energy that was bubbling up inside of him.

“…dude, I know the musical was probably supposed to have a touching end,” Burgerpants said, “but there’s no way anyone could take something like throwing a kid through a door seriously. The act in itself is just too funny.”

“All in the context, I suppose,” Bluebell added, swatting one of his long ears out of his line of vision from where it had flopped.

“Maybe, but--”

Two sets of furry ears immediately perked at the sound of a quick _rat-a-tat-tat_ on the front door. Bluebell glanced over at the door and then back to Burgy. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Burgerpants shook his head, mentally grumbling. Of all times for someone to show up! 

He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw it was nearing eight o’clock. Just who could be out at this time bothering him? It couldn’t be any of the children from the surrounding apartments because their parents kept them on a strict curfew. There was one fire monster teenager that lived on her own, but she seemed like the studious sort and never had bothered to prank him before, so he ruled her out. There was no way it could have been his boss because the few times Mettaton showed up at his door, he always announced his presence in a volume normally reserved for evacuating crowded movie theatres. Tabby was pretty much the same, but only because she relished in her own strength and couldn’t help but nearly beat the door down when she knocked.

That really left only his former stoner buddy, the one who had gotten him into the habit in the first place, but there had been a rumor that monster fell down not long after he moved out, so…

Growling, he shoved himself off the couch and marched over to the door.

He flipped up the MTT-shaped peephole cover and peered through. _I swear, if it’s another door-to-door salesman, I’m going to_ \--

 

 

For a monster who could not wield ice, it was surprising how his own magic completely froze the moment he saw what was on the other side of his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, THIS chapter was supposed to be the beginning of the dark stuff, but fluff won out (freaking MI bonding experience, yo, how could I not capitalize on that?).
> 
> The NEXT chapter starts the dark stuff.
> 
>  
> 
> As a side note, I wonder what UT!Monsters would think of the humans’ animated versions of monsters? What about animals that talk? I mean, considering most cartoon talking animals only usually have half their bodies covered, would like, Mother Monsters cover their children’s eyes while watching Disney stuff and be like “I THOUGHT THIS WAS A KID’S MOVIE” or something like that? I’ll admit the idea makes me giggle.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an idea for an Ambassador!Frisk one-shot that I really must type immediately…


	16. Open Up. Please.

It was a basket.

A basket of food.

Food that was obviously lovingly crafted and baked by the owner of the two slender, peach-furred paws holding it up for him to see through the peephole.

Burgerpants spun around and slammed his back against the door, realizing only just too late that the loud thud! was amplified through the hollow inside of his steel apartment door. That theory was proven almost immediately when he heard another cautious pecking, followed by a series of short, swift rapping.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knockity-knock knock!_

_NO! Not now! Go away, Purrline!_ Burgerpants screeched mentally, hoping that maybe his eldest sister would develop some temporary telepathy and read his frantic pleading mind. 

How on earth had he forgotten about Purrl being a possibility? She always came once a week, always in the evening, and dropped him off a basket of food, returning early the next morning for the empty basket. He really should have stopped taking it, but the few times he had, she had only piled up the containers for several days until other monsters started to complain. She had looked so utterly despondent by third day that he never pulled that stunt again. 

He had also paid for it dearly when Tabby literally _shredded_ the screen door of his balcony. She was threatening to punch out the glass when the spider monster living in the apartment above him woke up to the sound of their combined screaming and came to his aid. While admittedly, it was funny to see his bruiser sister flailing her arms and legs like she was trying to make snow angels in mid-air, her snarling and cursing him for upsetting their sweet older sister for just checking in on him riddled him with guilt for weeks afterward.

(Besides, Purrline’s food was too good to pass up and she always made enough so that he didn’t have to worry about buying groceries for several days, unless he got wasted and wound up with an extreme case of the munchies.)

Normally, if he heard her knocking, he would pretend not to be home, and she would usually go her own way. She was a mother hen but very timid about surpassing the boundaries of someone’s privacy…unless something gave her courage. Unfortunately, these days, that was pretty much any sign of life, and the noises from within the apartment were enough to fill her with Tabby-amounts of determination.

“Who is it, Burgy?” 

Burgerpants nearly swore, his curse dying in a hiss as it slipped through gritted teeth. For a moment, he had forgotten Bluebell was. He knew the rabbit had to be curious as to why he was acting this way. Purrline’s knocking grew more adamant, so his mind shut down on any possible excuses, leaving him simply shaking his head and mouthing, “Its nothing. Nobody. Shh!”

He even put a finger to his lips for good measure.

Bluebell’s ears immediately flicked flat against his back and he straightened up, hopping over the sofa arm into a ready crouch. Burgerpants, his eyes wide in panic, threw out an open paw to halt the rabbit’s coming any closer. Bluebell cocked his head slightly, his lips straightened to a flat, tight line, leaving him completely expressionless save for the slight downward quirk of eyebrows, his ears darting forward, a strange glint in his eyes that appeared when Burgerpants flinched at a particularly loud knock. 

Burgerpants briefly wondered if seeing the existence of such an uncharacteristically silent, stone-cold vigilance from the Nice Cream vendor was worth having a movie night, after all.

After about a minute, the knocking finally ceased.

He waited for another full minute before slowly turning around and looking out the peephole again. Purrline stared back forlornly, as if hoping he could see her sad dark eyes and gnawing of her lower lip. A few moments passed and she let out a visible sigh, looking down at the basket at her feet before crouching to cover the contents back up with the table linen ( _Probably tucking the sides of the cloth neatly into the basket and readjusting the dusky pink bow on the handle, like always_ , he thought, unable to really see because she had ducked out of his line of sight) before taking her leave.

Heaving a shaky sigh himself, Burgerpants gently pulled the ornamental MTT back over the peephole, wishing it could block out the sight of his eldest sister’s doleful expression as easily as it could the view of the hallway.

Turning around, he muttered, “Sorry ‘bout that, Blue.”

The rabbit surged forward, covering the space between the sofa and door in steps that were far more silent than Burgerpants imagined a rabbit could make. He clapped one hand one Burgerpants’ shoulder and the other flipped up the miniature robot, glancing around outside despite the cat’s protests against it.

“Are you alright?” Bluebell asked quietly before looking back outside again. “Who was that? Has someone been bothering you? Here, I can go talk to them. Let me--”

Bluebell, ears flattened, reached for the doorknob, gently attempting to push Burgerpants aside as he did. The cat moved, too: 

Right in front of the doorknob.

“Bluebell, it’s nothing,” he told the rabbit.

“It certainly didn’t seem like ‘nothing’ a minute ago,” Bluebell countered, softly but with a stern edge to his voice that reminded Burgerpants of when he had warded away one of his bunny siblings from touching a saucepan handle that had been dangling too close to the stovetop’s edge back at the Snowed Inn.

Wiping his paws over his face (Eww, when had he sweated so much?), Burgerpants felt the hard brass sphere dig into his spine as he pressed back against it, refusing to let it within the rabbit’s reach. “Really, buddy, just leave it alone! It’s nothing, it’s just--”

“It’s what, Burgy?”

The tone…Bluebell sounded almost _hurt_. He felt a gentle tugging down of his forearms and he, almost mechanically, gazed up at the rabbit. 

He immediately regretted wishing away that expressionless stoniness from earlier. 

_Worried_ Bluebell actually made a twinge of nausea lurch through his stomach.

Unable to actually say anything, the cat found himself staring into eyes so dark he hadn’t actually noticed that they were blue until he saw them up close. “First, those two cats chased you. Now, some monster comes knocking at the door and makes you nearly jump out of your skin,” Bluebell continued, soft and calm but clearly concerned. “Please, if there is someone out there bothering you, let me help. Friends help one another,” he added almost mournfully. “We…are friends, aren’t we?”

_“We’re just concerned about you, Calico. Please don’t block us out.”_

_“For the love of Asgore, Cal! You’re worrying Purrl sick! Now, get your furry tail out here or I’ll break in there and beat some sense into you!”_

_“Can’t you see what you’re doing to your sisters, young man? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! They’re hurting just as much as you!”_

_“Just give it up, Cal. You had a good thing going on back there, sisters who love you, and friends who miss you. The girls NEED you right now, so let this crummy job go and--”_

_“When are you going to grow up?! Stop acting like you’re the only one who feels any--”_

Burgerpants’ first instinct was to shove Bluebell away from him and stomp off, but if he did that, then he’d leave the exit wide open for Bluebell to go traipsing after his sister. The absolute, very last thing he needed was an altercation by two monsters who actually meant well, because then he would feel even guiltier on top of upsetting his sister and worrying Bluebell.

(Actually, the last thing he needed was for Tabby and Mettaton to ever meet, because he wasn’t sure _Hotland_ would be left by the time that battle was done, let alone his job…)

Instead, he settled for turning his head away defiantly. As he wrestled with his inner demons, his claws automatically extended, scraping against the metal of the door and wood of the wall. 

_Friends?_ he thought bitterly, a soft, hollow laughing breath escaping him. _Yeah, right. People only want to be my “friend” so they can either get me to do something or goad me into doing the “right” thing. All my “friends” just wanted to be able to pat themselves on the back and say, “Hey, lookie what I did. I got Calico Purrington to stop wasting his life on a crap dream and go back to the restaurant that he wouldn’t even be working at if his parents’ hadn’t owned it! Aren’t I such an amazing person?”_

“Just like always…” he murmured.

“Burgy?”

Burgerpants didn’t register the arm sneaking into his vision until he felt the warm touch on his shoulder. He jumped at the contact -- still such a surprise to him.

“I…I don’t want to push you, but there’s obviously something upsetting you and I want to help put an end to it,” Bluebell told him. “It’s hard enough on monsters in the Underground as it is, and I know that’s especially true with you. You work such long hours, and I know how thankless a job the fast food business can be. From what you’ve told me about your boss and coworkers, I’m not sure I’d be able to handle something like that -- and I had _Macy_ as an older sister! Do you have any idea how much of a demon that girl was as a bunny?”

Now _that_ certainly made for an interesting mental image. Burgerpants had only been around Macy for a few days and found out just how wicked she could be in her “helping” (i.e. merciless teasing).

Growing up with that?

…On second thought, maybe having Tabby as a sibling wasn’t so bad, after all. Where romantic matters were concerned, she was as dense as a rock. At least, until somebody pointed it out to her, THEN all hell would break loose.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Burgerpants looked up at Bluebell and realized the brevity of what he had said.

He said Burgerpants was his _friend_.

Another happy little ripple of energy pulsed through his soul.

While it could be possible that Bluebell was blinded by his crush on him, the rabbit had never given Burgerpants even one moment to think that he wasn’t unwanted or -- dare he say it? -- worthless. In person or over the phone, he was forever trying to find out more about Burgerpants, but it was never in a calculating way. More like an over-excitable bunny who had just found out he had something in common with another. 

Never, even ONCE, did Bluebell ever tell him his dream was foolish.

No, he _actively_ encouraged it.

He…asked to help. That was only something Purrline (and Tabby, in her own brusque way) did. Not forcing his opinions on Burgerpants and trying to reroute his actions like the cat was a veritable puppet for him to play with, but actually _asking Burgerpants‘ permission_ to help.

And he hardly had been the type to spill what Burgerpants had told him, unlike some former friends who liked to spread his every word all over social media or make his sisters feel even worse…

_Can I…trust him?_

Burgerpants thought about it. 

Yes. 

For the first time in a long time, he DID trust someone. Actually trusted them not to judge him. Or…so he hoped. Bluebell came from such a close-knit family. How would he react when…?

 

Taking a deep breath, Burgerpants steeled himself against the possible backlash, and released his words all in one breath…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure how, but this fic seems to be getting longer and longer on me. I didn’t plan this. I go into these works with a basic outline of where I’m going with it, but, well…
> 
> I did say “slow build” for a reason and, while nobody’s complained about it, I just wanna throw that out there again for anyone who might be feeling a little impatient with me because I keep saying “It’s gonna get darker” and it hasn’t all that much. Yet (keyword being). Maybe it’s because the current Chapter 18 was originally supposed to be Chapter 13 and I know this, but you guys didn’t know this. It wound up extending the story because FLUFF…and I wanted to go back to Burgerpants’ side of things a little. 
> 
> I also said I wanted to have shorter comment sections, but look where we are. >:/
> 
> I just kinda wanted to let you folks know how the fic has progressed far beyond what I thought it would. And uh, I dunno…
> 
> Not so much the place for personal matters, I suppose, because I like to keep those over on Tumblr, but I am worried that my own exhaustion is starting to bleed over into this fic. I need you all to let me know if it starts sounding too muddled and not making any sense because I take pride in both writing these and providing entertainment to you all. I’m hoping it’s not but I want to know if it does, because really things are gonna get crazy on my end soon, even more than just the snow screwing things up.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I’ll let this go for now. I’ll probably make a Tumblr post vaguely about what’s going on so if you all want to read that, it’ll be over there. If not, thank you regardless for being patient with me and I hope you enjoy the rest of the series.


	17. A Glimpse Beneath

“What was that?” Bluebell asked. “I couldn’t--”

“I said,” Burgerpants said with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders so that Bluebell’s hand fell away, “it’s…my sisters.”

Bluebell could have cheered. _Finally, we‘re making progress!_ Of course, Bluebell did not actually cheer, because then he would have probably confused the heck out of Cal, if not freaked him out even worse than he already had. Still, it was so very hard to keep in the bubbly feeling of his soul flittering around within himself at the thought of finally getting through to the cat.

He could not help but relish the feeling of triumph that he, of all monsters, might manage to get through to Calico when his sisters had not.

The victorious feeling was slightly quashed once he realized Cal’s facial features started to draw inward. Purrline had been more than happy to fill him in on the nuances of her brother’s distorted expressions. Small shrunken features meant nervousness…shame.

Cal was withdrawing into himself.

Well, Bluebell was not going to have any of that if he could keep from it. Softly, he said, “Hey, it’s alright,” he told him, “if you want to talk about it, I’m all **ears**.” He leaned down slightly, tapping Burgerpants lightly on the head with one of his own long blue ears. The cat batted his ear away with a snort, but the joke had the desired effect. Slowly, his expressions started to morph back to their default size. Bluebell smiled.

With a shrug and a huffed breath, Cal told him, “There’s nothing really to say. Just my sisters can be really bothersome at times.”

“How so?” Bluebell asked, leaning back. Cal scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side as if thinking.

“They just bug me, alright?” The words must have come out harsher than he intended, because he looked up at Bluebell the moment he said them, an almost panicked glint in his eyes. A harsh sigh wrenched itself from his throat and he scrubbed his paws over his face and head, flattening back his fur. “I’m sorry, Blue. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately,” he told him, rubbing the back of his neck so fiercely it seemed as though he might rub his flesh raw, one paw digging through his trouser pockets and turning up nothing. “Ugh, I need a smoke.”

Bluebell nodded, stepping back so Burgerpants could move. The cat spotted the little tin in which he kept his supplies, snagged it from the countertop, and headed across the room. Bluebell watched as he pulled back the heavy floor-length curtains just enough to look out before opening the door to the balcony and stepping outside, the curtain falling back into place and obscuring Bluebell’s view.

While he would have preferred to have kept an eye on the other monster, Bluebell decided it would be best for Calico to regroup by himself. Bluebell wasn’t sure if it meant Burgy would scrape up a story to smooth over the freakouts, as Purrline warned he might, or if he would actually open up more to the rabbit. 

Regardless, he had given his word that he would not push. So no matter how curious and concerned he was about his friend’s well-being, he had to trust that Burgy would show him in due time.

_I just hope that’s soon_ , Bluebell thought, his ears drooping and his smile dulling to a grim line.

With nothing better to do than listen to the distant sounds of the Hotland inhabitants outside and the automatic rewinding of the VHS tape, Bluebell returned to the couch and pulled out his cell phone.

 

**Bluebell: purrline i may be about to make progress. keep your sister busy a while longer alright?**

 

The response came back a minute later, consisting almost entirely of gibberish lettering over the course of three texts. A couple more texts seemed like they were trying to say that she had maybe dropped her phone, but the words were broken with odd combinations of letters scattered throughout. He figured she approved when, on the last text, he received a string of happy emoticons.

For about ten minutes, he quietly tapped away, responding to messages from his parents and siblings, stifling a laugh now and then at a funny picture one of the bunnies had sent him, before pulling up a social media feed and trying to figure out his newest customer’s whereabouts. 

(The kid seemed to be all over his newsfeed after their appearance on one of Mettaton’s shows. While Bluebell had his doubts that Frisk was a human, as MTT was known to play up whatever gimmicks he could for his programming, he could not help but feel a twinge of concern for the child should they turn out to actually _be_ one. The kid was just that: a kid. He really did not want to think someone as sweet and helpful as Sans’ little tagalong, whose most violent action had been participating in a mere snowball fight, might wind up--)

The sound of shuffling cloth turned his attention back to the balcony. As Burgerpants shut and locked the patio door behind him, Bluebell could see the cat’s hunched shoulders rise and fall dramatically before he straightened, his chest thrown out and his hands shoved deftly into his pockets. 

Seeing such an obvious gathering of courage gave Bluebell hope. _Maybe he really is going to open up, after all!_ he thought. His ears perked towards the cat, waiting as Burgy just stood at the door, staring out at the neon sign-and-lava-lit cavern realm.

“Burgy?”

Without turning around, the cat mumbled, “…I miss having a screen door. Kept the bugs out.”

Bluebell quirked one ear questioningly. “Huh?”

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, Burgerpants replied, “Nevermind.” He turned around, glancing at Bluebell before looking off at the ceiling, scratching his head. “Where to start…?” After a few moments of pondering, the cat said, “My sisters aren’t _bad_ monsters. They’re just…overbearing at times. Maybe not my eldest sister so much ‘cause she tries to mind her own business, but Tabby! Oh, by Asgore, Tabby,” he groaned, burying his face in his paws for a moment.

Through capped hands, he grumbled, “I swear Ma weaned that kitten on protein powder and crazy. She’s older than me,” he started gesturing, his facial muscles visibly tweaking with distortion magic, “and yet she acts like a freaking child throwing a temper tantrum when she doesn’t get her way. Only HER tantrums usually involve less crying and more breaking stuff and stalking around the resort like a buzzard waiting for its next meal. No, wait -- make that a _piranha_. A hungry piranha with scary eyes and fangs with fur instead of scales!” 

Burgerpants frantically gestured the verbal depiction, his face naturally shifting to have tiny eyes beneath an oversized, deeply knit unibrow to almost sabertooth tiger-proportion fangs. All the while, Bluebell had to gnaw his lower lip not to burst out laughing. By the time Cal’s facial fur fluffed out, his cheeks not quite reaching Tabby’s trademark tufts until his cheeks _themselves_ stretched out comically, Bluebell had both ears tugged across his lips in an X, holding tightly to their tips in an attempt to keep the giggles inside because, hey, this was a serious situation and Cal was trying to vent and Bluebell was finally making progress and--

 

…Cal just had to put them all together, didn’t he?

Teeny eyes, gargantuan angry unibrow, sabertooth fangs, fur fluffed out like a bunny with static cling, and cheeks stretched to points sharp enough to gouge out an eye.

Bluebell’s head hit the couch arm. Hard.

 

After laughing to the point his sides ached, Bluebell remembered that ma- _aaaaaaybe_ he shouldn’t be laughing at someone who looked like he had been faced with his own dust (no matter how funny Burgy’s expressions were). Sheepishly, he raised his head to apologize.

Instead of being even more upset, however, Cal was looking at him, smiling. Not a “I-am-so-stressed-out-right-now” smile he kept plastered on at work or even a smug smirk, but a true, soft smile: the sort where he looked surprised that he could even make somebody laugh, but with his whole body leaned slightly forward, arms down and palms open as if ready to urge the giddiness out of Bluebell -- much like a parent monster beckoning for their child to take his first hesitant steps.

Cal had the same look on his face after his rant at the garbage dump, the first day they met.

It was present when he first got a rise out of the bunnies and inn-goers, too.

For a moment, the memory of Cal sitting on the bench with Sans superimposed itself over the cat’s features. Compared to that bitter, hard-as-cold-steel look of utter wretchedness back then, the hopeful, disbelieving glimmer in the cat’s eyes was -- in a way -- sadder. It reminded Bluebell of a seedling sensing the barest tinge of warmth and prodding its cautious way out of the Snowdin permafrost in hopes that it could grow up like the other cavern pines without being singed by the killing chill of magical winds that frosted the ever-winter land over. 

Only, instead of the lack of winds and pouring snow, it was positive feedback the cat had hinged on.

Such looks didn’t suit Cal in the slightest.

Smug smirks, rumbling laughter, silly distorted expressions, wacky voice and pose impersonations, frantic gesturing accompanying a passionate angry face, those few true, soft smiles: all of those fit perfectly.

But despondency.

Melancholy.

Looking like his very _soul_ was going to be ripped out if Bluebell stopped laughing?

No, those looks not only were incredibly ill-suited to a monster who obviously had such a broad and wondrous spectrum of facial features to choose from, but they made Bluebell’s stomach lurch with nausea.

Bluebell wanted to wipe those images from his mind and from Cal’s expression chart entirely. And, by golly, was he more determined than ever to do it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original Chapter 13 is getting farther and farther away. Oh well!
> 
> I really am sorry this has taken so long. I really struggled with this chapter because of the perspective it was from. Not trying to sound like a downer, but the past couple of weeks I could more identify with inner demon-tormented Burgerpants than cheery supportive Bluebell (which is more of my default), and I know that’s bled into my work when I’ve actually not been too busy or worn out to write.
> 
>  
> 
> I’ll leave the personal stuff to the Tumblr feed, because I still want this story to remain on the theme of “resolving issues right before liberty presents itself” (emotionally for Burgerpants, romantically for both him and Bluebell, and actual physical liberty for everyone when the barrier is broken). A sort of play on the Law of Attraction, I suppose. By that I mean once you open yourself up to good, good things will come to you so long as you keep that mindset and work hard. That’s probably why I’m a little leery on how good I think this sounds because this portion of the series is that build-up to stepping over into the light, so to speak. That whole psychological struggle aspect from Cal/Burgy’s PoV and Bluebell’s sorta “rescue” attempt because of how real a chance it is that a monster losing hope could very well perish from it. 
> 
> I do want to point out that three of the characters in this are actually different ways that people handle serious problem solving.. One route might help one person but be detrimental to someone else. Like so:
> 
>  
> 
> From one reader’s perspective, you might want to say to Burgerpants, “You’re 19, dude, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Just change jobs and try something else, take the dream from another angle.” That’s TABBY in this. She’s the tough-love kinda girl, says it like it is, wants to actively get you going in a way that’s productive. She kinda overdoes it, though, and doesn’t understand that her desire to help is actively pushing someone away and adding to their anxiety (not to mention actually shaming her brother for upsetting Purrline. Big no-no to someone in BP’s shoes). There’s also not a whole lot of listening going on because she starts focusing on BP’s acting-out and pushing-away behaviors as something personal.
> 
> Purrline is more of the, “I’m not sure what to do but I want them to know I’m here” sort. She sends messages, drops off food, tries to keep an eye on her brother in indirect ways. Sometimes, something like that is needed if someone is simply just needing a vacation; not if they have a mental disorder or bad self-esteem issues. It may get to the point where you get tired of your own inaction and result to impulse (like helping your sister chase your brother), you may worry yourself ragged, or you may, reluctantly, force yourself to stop caring in order to prevent worrying yourself ragged. She tries not to take pushing-away behaviors personally but, being a highly sensitive person and eldest sib, she feels guilty at not being able to sort everything out.
> 
> Bluebell is more of an opportunist. He recognizes a problem, shows he’s interested in the person as a whole (not just their problem), shows support but doesn’t push -- yet when the situation arises, he takes to opportunity to listen and readily offers help (not forcing his idea of help on someone else). Most importantly, he doesn’t let his *desire* to help get involved with *actually* helping, the way Tabby does. He, like Purrline, asks for help and advice from others when he realizes a problem may be too big for him to handle or be magnified by his own faults (a.k.a. being a worrywart). He tries not to take things personally even though it still concerns him.
> 
>  
> 
> In the case here where BP obviously has had a prolonged period of depression, anxiety, very low self-esteem and self-worth issues (among one more undisclosed issue I’m sure you’ve all guessed but I have not gotten to yet), Bluebell’s approach is the healthiest medium.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, as my readers, I ask you yet again to help me make this reading experience the best it can be by asking your opinion. 
> 
> In a situation like this, what would your approach be? Tabby’s? Purrline’s? Bluebell’s? A combo of all or something different? 
> 
> If you’ve been in something similar to BP’s situation, what worked best for you (or what would you prefer)?
> 
> Please, tell me in the comments below or drop me a line at **darkling imp.tumblr.com**. Tell me how you would handle things or like to see it done.
> 
>  
> 
> And, for those of you who have been reading my posts over there and commented, thank you for your support. I promise to get back to those I haven’t as soon as I can. Thank you so much.


	18. What Matters to You Should Matter to Me

_“Ugh, I need a smoke.”_

 

It wasn’t a lie. Most of them time, he needed a smoke. If he could have, his default state would have been “high as a stalactite”. It certainly would have made working for Mettaton a lot easier. 

_Actually, it would pay for that stupid overgrown calculator to get high himself. If he had, y’know, lips to smoke with_.

Burgerpants nearly choked on the sudden deep drag he had at the frightening mental image of Mettaton with a pair of giant lips (hiding shark-sharp teeth, of course) on his pixilated front. He managed not to cough too much, beating his chest as he tried to rid himself of the thought. He had had enough trauma for one night, and he really didn’t need any more--

Oh.

That was right.

He was probably about to inflict a lot more trauma on himself, wasn’t he? That’s what he got for opening his mouth to Bluebell. The rabbit monster wasn’t going to leave his apartment unscathed, either. With each passing second and each drag he took, however, Burgerpants was finding it a lot harder to care anymore.

 

…Of course, every time he was ready to stub the blunt out and head back inside, his stomach would lurch and he’d turn right back around, hoping his next drag would grant him the ability to magically reset the past few minutes so that he had never freaked out over Purrline and opened his big, dumb mouth.

The cycle continued until he reached the last useable fragments of his smoke.

He considered lighting up a second one but thought better of it. If he was too out of it, there was no telling what he might say to Bluebell. Or do, for that matter. Last thing he needed was a wake-up call from Bluebell’s angry sister Macy because the stupid cat had decided to cling to her brother and tell him all sorts of depressing horror stories (while giggling like a madman, because he had a tendency to find the most morbid stuff funny when he was out of his head) until he fell asleep.

The least he could do was be fully functional while he introduced Bluebell to the future reason he might need therapy.

‘Cause, hey, anything Calico “Burgerpants” Purrington ever said anymore just seemed to screw everything up. Who’s to say he wouldn’t mess things up so badly this time that he’d drive Bluebell to the brink of sanity simply by opening his mouth? 

Like, instead of having the power of speech, he’d just release some sort of sonic cry that would make monsters go completely mad at the sound of it, forget about making Nice Cream, and take up the hobby of curling into the fetal position and rolling around while babbling nonsensically about Vegetoid-flavored soup.

Burgerpants slapped his forehead.

_Yeah, there we go_ , he thought sardonically, _I’d not only make Bluebell go nuts, but I’d also drive him to cannibalism._ A grim chuckle escaped him. _May as well just throw me head-first at the Barrier. I’d probably go right on through and lead a fine life giving pointers to human serial killers._

Smoke finished and discarded, Burgerpants buried his head in his now empty paws. Random places his panicked mind went aside, he had to collect himself and figure out just what he was going to say to Bluebell -- and how much. 

Burgerpants looked down over his balcony. His apartment was one of the old ones on the side, not high enough up to see over the buildings around him (the higher, newer ones cost far more than he made). Still, it was nice to watch what little traffic came to and from Bratty and Catty’s little alleyway setup. He never had gotten the courage to talk to the girls again after his nicknaming incident. Dumping garbage on himself and only narrowly escaping his insanely persistent sister Tabby probably only made for more funny inside jokes between them.

And why not? He was a fumbling, silly, ugly beast of a monster. He wasn’t physically strong, his HP certainly wasn’t the highest in the world, and he had always preferred using his magic for entertainment purposes rather than practical use. Not that he wasn’t competent when he had to be -- after all, his distortion magic didn’t just apply to his face -- but he was grossly out of shape and run down from both his job and depression. The smoking honestly didn’t help matters any but what did it matter? 

What did any of it matter?

 

…Bluebell mattered.

And Calico mattered to _him_.

So far, he seemed to be the only monster that Cal had left to disappoint. Him and the Snowdinites, he supposed, but it was Bluebell who kept coming back to him. Checking on him. Asking him for advice. Genuinely curious about his interests. Heck, he even went along with that silly “ninja” routine in the hallway!

Now he was sitting in his living room, waiting on Burgy to talk to him.

They had been talking for weeks and he didn’t even know Burgerpants’ _real name_ , for Asgore’s sake, but he _still_ seemed to care!

…Maybe…

…Maybe he actually _did_ care. 

Why, Cal didn’t know, apart from the fact that Bluebell was just genuinely nice to everybody. But logically, the cat knew the rabbit had invested a lot of time in him. All of the texts, calls, and Nice Cream sessions added up. With his one-monster Nice Cream business and helping out with his siblings taking up the majority of his day, that said a great deal. 

(Sure, he might have gotten the hint from texts Macy and Sans sent, but he hadn’t dwelt on those. It seemed…too good to be true.)

But just once, after so long, Calico wanted it to be true. He wanted to believe that this rabbit sincerely saw good in him and wouldn’t just disappear the moment he glimpsed the darkness beneath Burgy’s sardonic exterior. 

Oh, he knew the desire to just have a fan had passed long ago. It would be the biggest lie he had ever told to even think otherwise.

Right now, he desperately wanted someone to accept him for his failings, someone he wouldn’t feel pressured to put on his fake MTT-Brand Smile ( _Trademarked_ , he mentally added) to sell a Glamburger to or to reassure his siblings, to view him without passing judgment and still see something salvageable there. To not leave simply because he didn’t see things another’s way, or pressure him to conform to another’s standards.

Amidst all of his dying, withering dreams, there was still that one seedling -- that single, teensy-tiny sprout of hope. And it was sitting on his sofa, waiting on _him_.

For him.

Because he didn’t want to push and make Burgy uncomfortable--

 

Burgerpants threw open the curtain and was locking the patio door behind him before he even registered what he was doing.

“Burgy?”

\--Hearing the other monster’s voice, however, made him hesitate for a moment. The speech he had carefully crafted in his head rapidly disintegrated into fragments of words bathed in a emotion-charged blips of bad memories. 

So he just decided to wing it.

Playing off the first thing that came to his mind, he said, “I miss having a screen door. Kept the bugs out.”

Certainly, it wasn’t the best way to start the classic backstory reveal, but real life never was good at adhering to theatrical clichés. It made the words come easier, though, once he realized his voice was not nearly as unsteady as he feared it might be. Still, with acting practically second nature to him, he easily fell into dramatics enough to cover for life’s failings. Before long, he was midway into a rant about Tabby’s overbearing “tough love” with his facial features distorted into the wackiest mockery of his stress-inflicting middle sister that he could possibly fashion.

He winced when he heard the _thunk!_ of Bluebell’s head hitting the sofa arm.

Oh, that laugh…What he’d give to just be back in Snowdin, once more snowed into that den of rambunctious bunnies and chortling back-cavern monsters, if it meant he could forget this whole mess! The burden of his job under Mettaton, the strain Tabby’s hijinks brought him, just…the whole past two years, really. He would gladly endure Macy’s teasing and Sans’ cheesy puns if it meant he could just cast aside the time that wound him down, merging his life Before Glamburger with his Snowdin visit and just spreading that out into what would be…well, quite a long amnesiac gap if he was actually capable of resetting and merging time like that.

Just thinking of something like that was horribly confusing and brought up a lot of questions that delved into territory more becoming of science fiction and theoretical physics textbooks.

(In other words, it was giving him one huge MTT-shaped headache.)

Eventually, Bluebell raised his head, shoving one of his long ears away from his eyes, and looked at Burgerpants with a sheepish smile. It was like watching an overgrown bunny with limbs so lanky they knocked into coffee tables when he laughed.

Bluntly stated, Cal thought Bluebell too cute for words.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at your problems, just…” Bluebell gestured toward his face. “You make really cool expressions, you know?” 

Burgerpants felt his facial fur prickle up. There were some ways honesty managed to slip by even his distortion magic, and that…yeah, flushing was too easy for him. Tabby always capitalized on making him blush until his gingery fur turned nearly goldfish orange. 

“Ah, heh,” Burgerpants said, chuckling nervously, “was it…really that funny?” He would have probably cursed his bland choice of response if not for the fact that the miserable and conflicted sides of himself were trying to keep a grip on a third side that just wanted to leap at the Nice Cream vendor and cling like there was no tomorrow. 

_No monster should be that damn cute_ , he thought, willing that goofy kittenish side back down until his inner demons could wrangle it back into place and sit on it so it would stay out of mischief.

“Yeah, you’re really good at them,” Bluebell said, sitting up and smiling more confidently now. Burgy straightened, his wry smile showing off one of his fanged incisors.

“Thanks,” said the cat. 

With a sigh, Burgerpants rubbed the back of his neck (it always had that one muscle that ached when he was too stressed) and drummed his fingers against the tin-shaped lump in his pants pocket. It really was tempting to go have another smoke. After a hesitant step back toward the balcony door, Burgerpants finally sauntered over and leaned against the back of the couch.

No, he needed to get this out of the way while he still had the courage. 

He looked toward the cabinet that contained the tin of his parents’ special tea blend and hoped their memory would give him strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies~!
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have been so supportive over these past few chapters. For those of you who haven’t weighed in on the question in the author’s notes from Chapter 17, please do so. It will be an awesome help to me! Please and thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, a slight step back, but I wanted to show a bit of Cal’s thought processes regarding the events last chapter. The character introspection potential in this story is just wild, so I’ve gotta go with it. 
> 
> Hopefully, I’m back on a near daily/every-other-day posting schedule for a while now that I’ve had some time to get ahead.


	19. I Think I Can

Unfortunately, none of the word combinations Burgerpants devised seemed good enough as a conversation restarting line, so he was almost glad when Bluebell took the initiative.

“Does that mean the cats chasing you the other day were your sisters?”

Wincing slightly, Burgerpants nodded.

“And the person at the door just now, that was one of them, too?”

“Yeah.”

“The less destructive one, I hope.”

Burgerpants laughed. “Yeah, that was Purrline,” he said. “If it had been Tabby, I’d probably have balcony-hopped over to the fire escape by now. Not sure how that would go carrying you because you’d probably hit your legs on everything.”

The twitching of Bluebell’s floppy ears made him glance over at the rabbit. “I’m pretty sure I could hop across the balconies myself,” Bluebell said, “unless you’d just want to carry me. That would be alright.”

 

Forget Tabby. _Bluebell_ made even the hair on his ear tips stand up. Though, from looking at the rabbit, he seemed a little surprised at what he said, if the dusting of cobalt on his cheeks was anything to go by. 

Grinning, Cal pushed away from the couch, watching Bluebell with one eyebrow smugly raised. “Oh, would it?” Immediately, he struck a pose, stepping out to a bow-legged sumo wrestler’s stance and pounding one fist against his chest. “Ugh! Me Tarzan-Cat! Me leap balconies carrying nice rabbit monster. Save from Tarzan-Cat’s Crazy Sister!”

Bluebell laughed. “Would that make me ‘Jane-bell’, then?”

“Nah, Jane always got on my nerves in those old movies,” Burgerpants said, now leaning over the couch. “Too prissy.”

“So,” Bluebell linked one arm over the back of the couch and leaned in, “who would I be then? Holt? Cheeta?” He said the last one with a chuckle.

Smirking, Cal said, “None of those, either.”

“Then who?”

Cal thought for a minute before grinning widely. “An original character.”

One long blue ear crooked questioningly. “An original character?”

“That’s right. You would be Bluebell, the High King…” He waved one arm out in grand proclamation, waited a few seconds to generate suspense, and then reached over and playfully swatted one of Bluebell’s ears, “…of the Sugar-High Bunny Hoard.”

Bluebell broke into raucous laughter. “Hey,” he pointed a finger in Burgerpants’ face, “I’ll have you know I ration my siblings sweets like a responsible big brother should!”

Giving him a sardonic look, Cal asked, “Oh yeah? What, five Nice Creams for lunch?” Bluebell frowned, almost pouting.

“That was just the one time!” Burgerpants crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow expectantly. “Alright, well, twice, but the first time Cotton was really upset and the second time -- well, it’s not like I can watch everybody while I’m trying to get my nephew out of a tree.”

“Five Nice Creams, Bluebell.”

“She had pocketed most of them! I didn’t even know until Sugar came running out the girls’ room, yelling about Bon-Bon having a stomachache!”

The two monsters looked at each other -- Burgerpants with a smug smirk, Bluebell with a disbelieving grimace as he tried to explain his mishap away -- before they both burst into laughter. The rabbit laughed to the point of nearly silent squeaking before burying his face in the sofa cushion, his arms slung over the back and his whole body shaking with mirth. The sight only made Cal chuckle more, his grin quirking up slightly higher on one side as he watched the quaking of the rabbit’s frame.

It was so hard to stay miserable around the rabbit, even when he actively tried. There was just something comforting about the rabbit’s presence that swept away the darkness like it was discarded flour and pulled out the best in Cal. 

For a moment, he wondered if he could really write it off as a joke, after all. Just go back to making Bluebell laugh, like this. 

Then, for the briefest moment, an inkling of hope came to him:

What if…what if he talked and…that was alright?

What if _this_ could continue?

 

Determination flared through his veins. He wanted this. He wanted to be around Bluebell more often, hearing him laugh, making him smile, feeling the energy and witty banter exchange between each other all the time -- not waiting weeks before his crazy sister stopped bothering him. 

Bluebell’s smile made his job _tolerable_. Heck, upon returning from Snowdin, it had him even joking with his jerk of a boss!

It…made things feel _right_ again, like a shining light in the dark Underground.

But could he really have what he craved if he wasn’t completely honest with himself, or with Bluebell? No, of course not. Trying to hide the trouble with his job and sisters took up so much of his time and energy that it ran him down, even more than actually dodging Tabby and running that stupid burger joint. It took away from what little enjoyment he had when they were together. 

Maybe if Asgore got another human soul and they got to the Surface, he could find another job. Maybe, if humans weren’t as bad nowadays as the history books said they used to be, it would be easier to branch out into the entertainment field with a larger audience. Monsters themselves would have a much larger world and more distractions, so maybe he could branch off on his own and give MTT a little competition someday. And, in any event, he could find another job -- one that didn’t run him to pieces while he strived for his dream.

Tabby and Purrline might be easier to face with backup, too.

 

_Alright_ , he decided, _let's do this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are dorks. Yup. 
> 
> And now, I’m going to have to add “Tarzan the Ape Man” references to the Tags list. I’m not even sure how that quite happened, but hey, I’m rolling with it!
> 
>  
> 
> I swear, we WILL be getting somewhere in the next chapter -- and, by the end of it, we will finally get out of Burgerpants’ apartment where we’ve all been trapped for the past week or so!
> 
> (Seriously, if anyone wants to draw a scene of a bunch of unidentifiable readers crammed into a coat closet while watching these two, that would be freaking hilarious. No pressure though XD)


	20. Close

Bluebell finally stopped laughing after he felt the couch dip next to him. He looked over, trying to catch his breath, and saw Cal sitting by the opposite sofa arm. The cat drummed his fingers against the upholstery, his face a blank slate save for the slight inward tilt of his eyebrows and the twitching of one corner of his mouth -- though whether he was milling over words or trying to summon a smirk, Bluebell wasn’t certain.

The rabbit remembered Purrline’s warning and felt a little guilty. He had completely disregarded that the moment Cal started making faces, hadn’t he? 

_Man, some pal I am this evening, huh?_ Bluebell thought. Still, he wanted to help Burgy, and the cat certainly wasn’t trying to goof his way out of an awkward subject right now. If anything, he looked very contemplative.

Getting back to the subject at hand, Bluebell asked, “So your sister--”

“My sister’s been--”

The two glanced at once another. Bluebell laughed. Cal’s lips quirked upwards a little but he didn’t laugh. As if physically weighed down by his thoughts, the cat shifted forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees, his fingers linked together in thought.

“I’m sorry,” Bluebell said, “what did you want to say?”

Breathing into his hands, Burgy replied, “I told you Tabby’s been driving me up the wall. That stalking around outside the resort? Sadly, that’s not a joke. She’s been doing that every day since they spotted me, and I can’t even go outside to dump the trash without her trying to pounce on me.”

The implied _That’s why I won’t leave the building_ hung in the air, but Bluebell didn’t press it. Purrline had told him that Tabby had been putting in odd hours, volunteering for supply runs at the busiest times just so she could go pester her brother. There was only so much the older Purrington sister could do, and none of the other employees were brave enough to stand in Tabby’s way once she got an idea into her head -- especially when that idea happened to regard her family’s well-being. Apparently, it was starting to cause problems with the café’s business to have one of their best workers skipping work. Rumors of Tabby’s unorthodox “assistance” weren’t helping an already high-strung Purrline, anyway.

Of course, Burgy didn’t know that. To his knowledge, Bluebell had no idea about his sisters. The rabbit wasn’t certain how he would take knowing that he was in cahoots with Purrline, anyway. 

Sure, he had wanted to tell the cat that everything was fine, and he was no more scared of Tabby’s overbearing exuberance than he would have been of the twins teething on his ankles. He would have been happy to have talked to her, too, had Purrline not cautioned him against it. Tabby, it seemed, did not have the best track record with her brother’s friends -- namely, due to her interrogation methods. 

But seeing Cal freak out over one of his sisters just knocking on the door? As simple as the solution might seem, Bluebell knew better than to blurt something out that might cause him more stress. Burgy might think Bluebell had already made a snap judgment about him because of his sister’s influence, and then no one would be any closer to getting Cal back to his fully lively, passionate self. True, Bluebell had only glimpsed that self back in Snowdin, but learning this stressed-out version of Cal wasn’t the cat’s default made him determined to see the reality.

“Have you asked her to stop? Maybe she does not realize how much it is stressing you out.” 

The cat groaned. “Oh, she knows, alright! I’ve tried, the resort’s security has tried,“ Burgerpants threw his arms up in the air, flopping back against the couch. “Nothing works.”

“What about asking your other sister to talk to her?”

“I did, but there’s only so much Purrl can do to keep track of her. She has the restaurant to take care of and her own problems. Besides, once Tabby gets it into her head to do something, she’ll tear down everything in her way to do it,” he said, grimacing, his arm gesturing toward the curtains. When Bluebell didn’t get it, Burgy added, “She tried to get into my apartment through the balcony, Blue.”s

_Ah_ , thought Bluebell, _that explains the screen door._

“How long ago did you tell her to stop? Was it in person or on the phone? If you’d like,” Bluebell added, “we could call her now. It might be easier if someone else is here with you, y’know? If things get too bad, I could take over. Maybe she would be willing to listen to someone who--”

A harsh, exasperated sigh tore its way out of Burgerpants’ throat as he grabbed at his head, doubling forward with a wild cry, “I already tried that! It won’t work! You just don‘t get it, Blue -- _nothing_ works with her because she won’t _listen_!”

Bluebell was taken aback by the sheer rage in the cat’s voice. His claws had unsheathed and a surge of magic rippled beneath the flesh from his scalp down to the base of his neck, disappearing into the collar of his work shirt, making all of the fur in its back stand porcupine-quill straight until his muscles stopped quivering. The cat’s lips pulled back into a snarl, showing off temporarily elongated incisors as an angry hiss whistled through shark-sharp distorted teeth.

For the love of Asgore, just what all had this poor guy gone through?

Bluebell felt a twinge of protective rage fire up within him. Purrline, not one to pick favorites, had been equally defensive of both her siblings, only acknowledging their faults in a veiled sort of way. But she clearly had no idea of the breadth of her siblings’ squabbles. Tabby’s forcefulness had clearly made Cal’s self-imposed isolation worse.

Slowly, Burgy‘s facial features began to morph inward, shrinking. “…She never listens to anything I have to say. Trying to talk to her stresses me out more than dodging her,” he told Bluebell, his voice small and almost devoid of emotion “So far, I‘ve been lucky, but if my boss ever catches wind that I‘m indirectly the source of business disruption, I‘ll lose my job. That‘s if Tabby doesn‘t get a hold of him first. I‘m honestly surprised she hasn‘t yet.”

Bluebell shifted around, fully facing the other monster. “Why do you think she is doing this?”

Facial features panning back out to normal (Oh, look, there went the drawn-up chicken-esque eyelids again!), Cal dramatically gestured, as if grappling at some unseen threat above him. “She thinks I have a ‘problem’--” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers, “--that I need to admit to so I can go about acting the way she wants. Well, I’m sorry, Bluebell, but just because she wants me to come back to the restaurant and act all hunky-dory around everyone doesn’t mean I’m going to!”

“’Problem’?” Bluebell asked.

“I’m an adult, man,” Cal continued, “and she doesn’t get that. I don’t owe anything to them, and they don’t owe anything to me. I just want to live what life I have in peace without having to worry about her stressing me out even more than I already am. I’ve got enough trouble just dealing with keeping my boss pacified and that stupid burger joint running when turnover’s so high that new employees run in and out of there like parts on a conveyor belt, and--”

It was as if someone had broken an egg over the cat monster’s head. His words cut off in a choked sound, his eyes widened, his ears went flat against his head, and his whole form went stone-still. For several moments, he didn’t move. He just stared straight ahead, his mouth stuck in almost the same position as his last word. 

Finally, he let out a shuddering breath and slowly closed his eyes, softly uttering a mild curse.

Ears mirroring Burgerpants’ flattened ones, Bluebell shifted forward, one hand stilled mid-reach as he regarded the cat with the utmost concern. “Burgy?”

“Forget it.”

“Huh?”

“Just forget it. Forget it, forget it, forget it,” he chanted softly. “Just---gah! Stupid Burgerpants! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” 

Bluebell’s arm shot out and grabbed hold of the cat’s wrist, pulling it away from its current duty of incessant face palming. “Hey, stop that!” the rabbit cried out. “The only thing stupid here is smacking yourself in the face, Burgy.” 

The cat tried to yank free of his grip but was surprised to find Bluebell was a lot stronger than he thought. He looked up at the rabbit, face flushed -- though from anger, shame, or something else entirely, Bluebell didn’t know. Gritting his teeth, Burgerpants commanded Bluebell to release him, but the rabbit would have none of it until the cat promised to stop beating himself up. 

Rather than continue a losing argument, Burgerpants kept tugging on his wrist and finally moved off the couch entirely.

“I need another smoke,” he said, tugging himself toward the balcony. 

“No, you don’t.”

“C’mon, Bluebell,” Burgerpants told him, almost at a growl, “just let go!”

“Not until you tell me why you’re freaking out!”

“Because you’ve got a hold of my wrist,” the cat yanked hard, “and won’t. Let. GO--OH CRAP!”

Bluebell might have had above average grip strength, but the tall, thin rabbit didn’t stand a chance against a stout cat monster who was equal parts pudge and muscle. Throwing all of his weight into his last tug, he uprooted Bluebell from his seat, causing the rabbit monster to crash into him and sending them both careening over the coffee table (flipping it over in the process) in front of the sofa. The wind was nearly knocked from Bluebell’s lungs when the solid form of the other monster slammed into him.

Shakily, Bluebell asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m f--”

Burgerpants’ words died away beneath the thunderous pulsating of Bluebell’s own soul, his face heating up as it dawned on him the position they were in. The cat’s torso was draped over the rabbit’s own with his wrist still caught firmly in Bluebell’s vice-like grip, the cat‘s face only just barely away from his own. His eyes widened as the sheer heat broiling off the other monster’s bulk filled his senses and, oh golly, his eyes sure were pretty up this close, weren’t they?

Then the pounding of the other monster’s soul vibrated through his sternum and his magic spiked.

Feeling their two souls slow their rapid cadences to the same steady, intense reverb overwhelmed his thought processes entirely, drowning out everything but the flush-darkened face of the cat looking down at him.

Staring at him.

Looking off to the side…?

Bluebell mentally whined. No, Cal’s attention needed to come back right now. His soul demanded it, by Asgore! He squeezed Cal’s wrist a little, hoping to get his attention, when the cat reached across him and his confused expression was blocked by his arm.

Vaguely, over the sound of his soul’s pulse, Bluebell heard, “…what the...?”

Cal shot off him so fast that he nearly pulled Bluebell up with him. His soul’s beat fluttered into a waning ripple, which his mind translated to what would have been a very pathetic whine had his soul actually been able to make more noise than its usual hammering.

Suddenly, he found a cell phone thrust into his face and a voice dark with teeming anger said, “Mind telling me what this is?”

It took a few seconds for his other senses to get back online, but when they did, his eyes widened in panic and his ears flopped limply onto his shoulders.

_Oh, crud._

 

There, in Cal’s hand, was Bluebell’s phone -- its screen lit up with his and Purrline’s message thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Aaaaaaand out of the apartment flies Bluebell, along with all of the readers and author in the closet as Burgerpants yells, “AND TAKE THEM WITH YOU!”
> 
> Speaking of, **budgieflitter** , yet again, did the cutest fanart for this. I was honestly just being silly about the drawing idea last chapter, but she drew it anyway! Hugs for you, Budgie! And thank you for the wonderful well wishes the other day. You’ve made my day so much brighter!  
> (Her absolutely adorable art can be found here: **http://budgieflitter.tumblr.com/post/140102021952/you-really-shouldnt-have-to-say-that-darklingimp** )
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, it’s been a while since shout-outs. There really are so many of you that I would like to thank for your lovely comments when I was having a bad depressy spell (and major burnout right now -- can’t wait to go see my friends in a few weeks). In addition to the anons on Tumblr who sent me supportive messages, I’m going to list as many of the Tumblrs and Archivers who have been so nice lately:
> 
>  **budgieflitter, dongoverlord, shapeshiftinterest, bibliomaniac, karla, COOLSKELETON95, SamuelM, ahopefulreader, Tarbeor, Animegirl966, 2ilver8ox**.
> 
> I’m sure there are more, and forgive me for those of you whom I have overlooked (my coffee has not kicked in yet). 
> 
> Also, **Frant1Cat** because they indulged me in my first sorta bilingual communication on here. You’re adorable!


	21. Love and Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter today~
> 
>  
> 
> **_Refer to end notes for upcoming story’s POLL! ^-^_ **

Bluebell plodded into Purrington’s Place with all of the dignity of a dying goose. 

All that was missing was a wobbly wail of despair to complete the ensemble because his face surely mirrored the deep internal struggle that was his love life. Or what it would have been, had he not just kicked it in the face and practically called its mother a carnivorous Froggit. 

Would that even be an insult? Froggits were naturally carnivorous. Wasn’t that just stating facts--?

_Why does my brain even go to these places?_ he thought, groaning as he plopped down at the counter and buried his face in his hands. His mind was filled with such a mess of humiliation and guilt that he could hardly focus.

“Bluebell?”

Ah, Purrline. Yeah, he was going to die. He was going to die _slowly_.

He deserved it, though.

“How did it--” 

“I screwed up,” he admitted. “I screwed up badly. I screwed up so badly that King Asgore himself should bequeath my photo be put in the history books with a caption that reads, ‘This monster may as well have been human. Don’t be like this monster.’”

Sounding thoroughly perplexed, Purrline shook him gently by the shoulder and got him to reluctantly look up at her. “What happened?”

Oh, and there’s that “concerned Big Sister” look. Yeah, he deserved to be dust. He could have turned to dust right then if given the chance. If a human walked in with a knife, he’d just throw open his arms, bare his soul, and let them have at it--

Pushing aside his ears (which had gone completely limp and lifeless over his face), he looked up at her and tried to find the words to start, but nothing would come. After a couple minutes of soundless babble, Purrline headed around the bar. Then she motioned for Bluebell to follow her.

“Menthe?” she shouted as she headed out the door. A tall, wiry alligator monster poked his head up from the table he was serving. “Take over. I‘ve got some business to which I must attend. Keep Tabby busy for me until I get back, will you?”

The monster shot her a baffled look but seemed to perk up at the mention of the cat’s sister, only to jerk back when he missed the glass he was pouring water into and nearly splashed himself. A smile quirked at Bluebell’s lips. He knew that look. It was the look he had whenever his sister or friends mentioned Burgy, and it was the same look Burgy had been shooting him for the past couple of weeks.

His face quickly fell as a heavy sigh hissed through his gritted teeth.

There would be no more of that. Not after what he had done. 

 

 

Bluebell hadn’t paid much attention to where he had been going, but he suddenly found himself standing at the doorway of an old but well-kept apartment building. Purrline opened the door and gestured for him to come inside, and he plodded like a worn-out plowhorse in after her.

She flicked a light on, swiftly but quietly shutting the door behind them. 

“Please,” she gestured toward the various array of furniture, “have a seat. Can I get you anything? Tea, perhaps? I‘ll make some tea.”

Bluebell held up his hand in a weak attempt to stop her but the cat whisked her way over to the large kitchen adjoining the den. Defeated, he plodded over and took a seat on the sofa, leaning back against the surprisingly plush material of the faded flowery upholstery. Comfy. One glance around told him that the rest of the apartment was likely the same, made to appear cozy and likely house a now-grown family of kittens if the photographs on the wall were anything to go by. 

Was this where Burgerpants grew up?

Bluebell’s fingers raked across tiny stitches that covered the edge of his sofa cushion. The motion filled him with a strange sort of comfort. It wasn’t long before Purrline noticed his ponderous movements.

“We’ve had that sofa as long as I can remember,” she said fondly. “I’m surprised Mother and Father managed to salvage it after having the three of us. Kittens like to make use of their claws, you know,” she told him with a chuckle. “You should see the underside of those cushions. They’re practically crosshatched.”

Bluebell smiled softly. He and his own siblings had been very much the same, and tiny bunny monster claws had a tendency to shred nice clothes whenever their owners tried to burrow into warm laundry. He had quite a few fond memories of himself and Macy pillaging their parents’ neatly made-up bed whenever fresh, hot blankets had been tucked onto it. 

_Mother could hardly ever stay mad long when she had four big bunny eyes staring up at her from within the lumpy mound that was her ransacked sheets_ , he remembered. 

Looking down at the small stitches, he wondered if the cats’ mother had been the same. Probably, if she had kept repairing a continually scratched couch rather than getting another one from the dump (sofas were fairly common items of refuse, and many monsters often stripped the fabric, wood and springs from them in order to use for parts). His own mother had turned several bunny-shredded sheets into a quilt because of their sentimental value, so why wouldn’t another monster mother keep patching up an old couch until it was more stitches than fabric?

His fingers stilled. 

_Did Burgy…? Had_ Calico _made these marks?_

Almost reverently, he brushed one furry appendage over the neat lines of thread, imagining a tiny defiant ball of orange testing out his extendable claws. Or had he tried to stand up here on shaky little legs, grasping at the fabric when his infantile muscles simply did not function quite right yet? He bet Burgy had been an adorably pudgy kitten. 

Suddenly, he jerked his hand back as if he had been shocked.

No, no, he shouldn’t keep thinking about it. He had gummed everything up. While a small portion of him flared with hope that he could set things right, another portion of him weighed crushingly upon him with the knowledge it might have been over long before he even started.

His internal struggle was interrupted by a shadow creeping over him. He looked up to see Purrline holding a tea tray, its contents of cups, saucers, spoons, sugar and cream bowls all artfully arranged around a teapot that was decorated with much the same pattern as the sofa. She looked at him for a moment, deeply concerned, before setting the tray down upon the coffee table and going through the usual banter of making one’s guest their preferred drink.

Handing him his cup, she took a seat on the cushion opposite, allowing there to be plenty of space between them. Bluebell was grateful for the breathing room. He thanked her and took an obligatory sip from the teacup and, finding it to be pleasant, nodded approvingly.

“My father’s blend,” she told him. “He would always make it for Mother when she was feeling overwhelmed.”

Bluebell looked up to the wall, his eyes homing in on a photograph of a tall, lithe male cat with orange fur and glasses and a smaller, stockier lady cat whose fur was slightly paler pink than Purrline’s own, save for a crown of nearly black hair styled primly around her face. Both were smartly dressed in tan-and-white uniforms and standing outside of a building, holding a sign that read: _We’re Open~!_

“That was taken the day Purrington’s Place opened,” Purrline told him. Bluebell glanced over at her to see she had followed his line of sight and was staring dreamily at the picture. “Even though Mother wanted to pass the business down to the eldest, she always wanted each of us to know the joy she felt from being a host. I do not mean simply ’hosting’,” she said, turning to Bluebell, “but all aspects of it: cooking, drink preparation, serving, making sure the guests were comfortable…It was her way of giving to a community that was still so terribly fragile.”

Bluebell quirked an ear questioningly. “What do you mean?”

Purrline looked down at her tea. “There is an old saying from the Surface that cats have nine lives,” she began. “If you had known our mother, you would have believed it. She was already quite old in that picture, not that you can tell. She was…she actually lived on the Surface.”

Bluebell’s eyes widened. “For real?” A glance at the picture hardly gifted credibility to Purrline’s claim. Most monsters aged slowly, but you could still see the signs of time. The only ones that did not age were…

“Your mother was a Boss Monster?!” 

“Surprising?” Purrline asked amused. 

“Then you three are--”

“Half-Bosses, yes,” Purrline told him, chuckling lightly. “Perhaps a bit more so, seeing as how father’s great-great grandfather was one, as well.”

Bluebell gaped, all stiffness jerked from his ears as they flopped in a dead shock against his shoulders. 

Burgy was part Boss Monster.

_Holy crap._

“That’s amazing,” Bluebell babbled in awe. Boss Monsters were rare before the war, which had killed off many of them. To his knowledge, there were only a handful left. Very few among the general population had Boss Monster blood apart from perhaps a very distant ancestor, and that was because the magic of Bosses tied their mates to them wholly. It often meant extension of an already long-lived monster’s life and youth, but if a common monster lost hope and fell down, they would take their mate with them. The same way if a Boss’ children reached adulthood--

The shock of realization hit Bluebell washed over Bluebell as if he had fallen through a frozen pond in Snowdin.

“Before the Core was built,” Purrline continued, “life was nothing but a struggle for monsters. So many had become dust within only a few months of being deprived of the light, of warmth. Mother tired of watching everyone crumble around her, so she plucked up her spirits and got to work. Being a Boss Monster had its perks, of course, and an excess of magical and physical energy was one of them. She was also very clever.”

The cat closed her eyes and deeply breathed in the scent of her tea before taking a long, slow sip, making imbibing her mother’s preferred drink into an almost sacred act.

“Mealtimes were always something of routine before the war. They brought families together, giving them time to put aside the pressures of the day and to just enjoy one another’s company while fulfilling one basic necessity,” she told Bluebell. “Mother could turn any dish she touched into a culinary masterpiece, and she served them with such flair and warmth that people were reminded of the sun again. She was a light in a dark, squalid place.” 

With a reverent look upon the photograph of her parents, Purrline said, “That’s what attracted my father to her. Certainly, she could run a tight ship and be entirely too proper at times, but it was something that added to the routine. It was as if she had never left the Surface. She instilled that belief into us--” she closed her eyes, smiling, “--that regardless of our circumstances, we should always do our very best to be hosts in whatever world we were in. That we, too, were lights that could remind people of happier times, to provide a semblance of escape.”

Bluebell smiled softly. Thinking back to Burgy‘s visit to Snowdin and their regular joking banter of texts, he said, “She sounds a lot like Calico.”

Purrline nodded. “Mother and Father were so proud of his decision to be an actor. Mother especially. Her eyes would just shine whenever she saw our brother performing. I believe, for every second he captured the patrons’ attention, she truly felt he would go on to do for the whole Underground what her restaurant could only do for this small corner of Hotland.”

She gnawed her lower lip for a moment, staring down into the swirls of herbal residue in her cup. Bluebell knew she was missing them. Though whether it was her Mother or brother she was missing more at the moment, he did not know.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did she…?”

“Mother was very old,” Purrline said, “and three children born to a couple with but one Boss parent was very taxing on even her surplus magic. When Father had his accident, it was not long before she started fading. It wasn’t long before they were both gone.”

Bluebell leaned forward, crossing his elbows over his knees. “I’m sorry.”

“It…happened.” He was a little thankful that Purrline did not try to sugarcoat her grief by saying everything was fine when, quite obviously, the grief was still fresh.

“How long ago…?”

“Last month marked the anniversary. The eleventh.”

Bluebell’s breath hitched in his throat. _That was the day after Burgy went back to Hotland._ He felt pain rip through his soul and his hand itched to grasp at his chest. He wished he had known. Even though the cat sounded just as vibrant as he did when he left Snowdin, Bluebell knew now just how much Cal could cover up with jokes when he wanted to. 

No monster should have to be alone with something like that.

“I can’t imagine losing either of my parents, let alone both,” Bluebell said. “But I know it gets easier, but it a takes a long time. Even then, you will still have moments where you will see or smell something and remember them, and it can hurt just as bad as when you lost them.” 

Purrline‘s cup stilled abruptly on her saucer. “Yes, that is true. Sometimes, just walking into the kitchen at the café…” She turned and regarded him with a curious gaze. “But how would you know that? You sound as if you…”

“Lost someone?” Bluebell finished for her. He nodded. “Several of my friends. Most I didn’t hear about until after the fact, but there was one…His end wasn’t pleasant. Losing hope rarely is.”

The other monster regarded him with curiosity before turning back to her drink, leaving them both in awkward silence. Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue. It wasn’t something Bluebell was very comfortable talking about, considering the memories it drudged up. Even now, the wave of nausea in his stomach and gripping chill in his soul were as fresh as the day it happened. 

Especially considering how much greater the cost could have been…

He really didn’t want to think about Cal going down the same path, but the signs were so similar that it stood his hair on end.

When Cal have found out about Bluebell and his sister texting one another, the reaction was so familiar that it shook him to the core, nearly shutting down his brain so that all he could really remember clearly was a flurry of enraged, bitter words dripping venom and paranoia before the cat kicked him out of his apartment. He didn’t give Bluebell a chance to explain, instead accusing him of just being one of his sister’s new schemes to spy on him. And as amusing as his expressions could be, they were downright terrifying when his pupils went to needlelike slits, his fangs extended, claws out, and distortion magic rippling under his flesh, making him taller and popping muscles with added bulk.

Oh, how he wished he could erase that horrid memory of sitting in the hallway, looking at the overturned basket of ruined goodies he had been shoved into and tripped over, glimpsing the misery and hatred in Burgerpants’ eyes before the door slammed in his face!

He related the story to Purrline -- leaving out the accidental destruction of her lovingly-crafted food, of course.

“…and that was it,” he finished. “I tried pounding on the door. I tried calling him, sending texts…He’s so mad at me, Purrline. I felt like I had actually started to get through to him, and I had to go and screw it up.”

Purrline, of course, looked like someone had knocked the wind out of her. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t have freaked out so badly. I didn’t know you two were even still hanging out until you texted me, and--”

Bluebell’s ears twitched backwards. “Hey, now, it wasn’t your fault,” he told her. “In fact, your showing up helped me get to know him better.” He clapped a comforting hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her self-berating. “If I hadn’t left my cell phone laying out, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Purrline seemed to calm down, but the somber shadow that crossed her face told him that concern was sinking in.

“You’re right,” Purrline said. “The point now is not whose fault was the greatest, but how we are to fix this.”

Bluebell nodded. _If it can be fixed_ , he hoped.

Suddenly, they were drawn out of their conversation by the front door swinging open, and a booming voice calling out.

“Purrl? You home? Menthe said--”

Instantly, the annoyed look on Tabby’s face disappeared, replaced by utter shock as she took in the sight of her sister and Bluebell sitting on the couch. 

 

 

The moment that Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face, Bluebell knew it couldn’t bode well for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parents’ descriptions are based on **budgieflitter** ‘s designs from a picture I mentioned in an earlier chapter. If you haven’t seen that, you should really go check it out.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, THIS was the original Chapter 13. How I wound up with 8 chapters between it, I don’t know, but I’m happy with how the revamp of this turned out. Initially, it was supposed to imply Bluebell freaking out over the Nice Cream help he got from Frisk but eventually revealing that it was what happened _after_ (meaning a condensed version of the past 4 chapters) that had upset him. It would have been a nice twist with a more direct flow that probably would have been more in-keeping with the prior two installments of this series, and I am a bit annoyed with having made this fic so linear. 
> 
> In the end, however, I decided to go with a more character introspection-based approach. This was a decision made more out of my typing while exhausted and coming out of a depressy spell than something I likely would have done for a professional work, but it served its purpose as entertainment for you lovelies and stress relief for moi. I feel as though it got a little deep there for a while and wound up with a more mature allegory for emotional healing than I had intended for a most-fluffy pairing fic, but I am nevertheless pleased with the result.
> 
>  
> 
> That being said, we are getting closer to the end. I am estimating about five more chapters.
> 
> NOW, it’s time to bring up another poll for the next story!
> 
> As I have stated, this series is mainly True-Pacifist Route, so the next major longfic will take place on the Surface. What I want to know is what sort of career do you all want Burgerpants to inevitably follow? 
> 
> Do you think he will actually achieve his dream and become an actor? Will he scale it down to drama teacher, or branch out to be something else in the entertainment field (comedian, director, producer, etc.)? Will he just settle back into the restaurant business with Bluebell? I’ve also seen cute AU comics on Tumblr where Burgerpants becomes an engineer. Or perhaps something else entirely?
> 
> Since Alphys, Mettaton, and Frisk are going to play bigger parts in the next fic, these would all fit in well with the relationships Burgerpants will have with these characters.


	22. Tabby the Tormentor

Tabby stood in the doorway, her arms akimbo and her chest puffed out. A wild grin split her face, wryly quirked up on one side more than the other.

“We~eeeeell, now!” she said, almost laughing the words. “What do we have here?” Without taking her eyes off the two monsters sitting on the sofa, she hooked her foot around the door and kicked it shut. “When Menthe said you left to take care of some ‘business‘, I had no idea this is what he meant!”

Bluebell and Purrline glanced between one another, noticed their proximity and the position of Bluebell’s arm, and immediately hopped to opposite ends of the sofa. Both started sputtering protests, but Purrline’s quickly became an incomprehensible babbling mess, her face flushing hot with embarrassment before she finally gave up and buried her face in her hands. Bluebell, having grown up with Macy’s teasing, fared far better and was able to protest fully.

Tabby simply winked at him and sauntered cockily over to her sister.

“Oh, Purrl, don’t be like that,” she said, bending at the waist so that she was at eye level with the seated cat. “You’re a grown kitty. It’s about time you expressed interest in more than just making sure everyone’s fed and no one’s too drunk to stand up. I just wanna know why you kept Hot Stuff over here--” she nodded toward Bluebell, “--a secret from _moi_ when you pretty much shouted it to third shift.”

Bluebell raised an eyebrow. _“Hot Stuff”? Really?_ That was a new one on him. He might have been able to appreciate it more if it had come from a certain other cat -- one that he wasn’t feeling extremely guilty for going behind his back to help his sister keep tabs on.

Stuttering from behind her paws, Purrline said, “Th-th-tha…that’s n-n-n…not…”

A paw clamped hard onto the eldest cat’s head and Tabby ruffled her fur. “You’re so cute, Purrline! Acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush--”

Purrline let out a squeak, her words coming out in an airy, “…why you do this?”

Tabby only grinned wider and laughed loudly as Purrline swatted the offending paw away. Bluebell noticed immediately that her facial features, too, had drawn inward, shirking just enough for him to notice her distortion magic. On Burgerpants, it was cute, but on Purrline it just looked like she had finally become so tightly wound on the inside that her outsides had started to follow suit.

With an emphatic huff, Purrline swatted her sister on the arm, drawing a raucous laugh from the other.

“It is not THAT sort of business!”

Tabby’s teasing and snickering continued for a few moments before Bluebell finally decided to take pity on poor Purrline, who by then looked a hair’s breadth away from pulling her blouse up to her face and hunkering down in it like some sort of strange peach-furred turtle.

“We’re just friends,” Bluebell said.

The bruiser cat raised up, her mischievous gaze on him now. “ _Date_ friends…?”

“Tabby, stop,” Purrline rasped, batting at her sister‘s arm, “we don’t like each other like that! Now hush!”

“Sure you don’t--”

“ _Tabby_ …” Purrline said warningly, her normal volume restored.

“Oh, don’t deny it,” the lynx-like monster said, turning back to her sister.

“Tabby!”

“Purrl!” 

Before one cat could tease the other into a mental breakdown, Bluebell spoke up. “Really, friend, that’s enough!” 

Tabby’s grin did not falter. “Aww, don’t be a spoilsport! It’s not every day my big sister finds herself a Honey Bunny--”

“I’m not her ‘honey bunny’! I don’t like her like that! I like _Cal_!”

 

 

Silence fell over the room like heavy snow falling from too-thin tree branches to crumple against the forest floor. Tabby’s head whipped around, back going ramrod straight and ears perked to their highest tufted points. Purrline’s facial features gradually fanned out and re-enlarged themselves, but not before Tabby’s grin disappeared altogether.

“You,” she regarded Bluebell with wide eyes, “know my brother?”

Sighing, Bluebell nodded.

Tabby shot forward and probably would have grabbed him had not Purrline’s paw shot out, nabbing her by the back of her jacket. “You’ve seen my brother? When? How is he? Did he--”

“Tabby, hang on a minute--”

A deft shrug of her shoulders left Purrline holding denim and the hard nubs of stubby fingers and slightly unsheathed claws digging into Bluebell’s upper arms. Tabby’s pupils narrowed to slits with her dark golden irises expanding slightly, banishing the whites of her eyes to some uncharted territory beneath flesh and fur.

“You’ve gotta tell me what you know about Cal,” Tabby told him, shaking him. “Please, man!”

Purrline finally snapped out of her shock long enough to sling the jacket away and halt Tabby’s attempt at during Bluebell into a living, breathing bobble-head bunny. “Tabby, stop shaking him! You’re going to give him whiplash!”

Rounding on the other cat, Tabby shouted, “ _Our brother_ , Purrl!”

Purrline snapped, her own pupils narrowing to needlelike slits. “Why do you think he’s here, then?”

That did it. The shaking stopped as the situation slowly seemed to dawn on Tabby. She didn’t loosen her grip, though, but her facial features softened a bit. “This is who you’ve been texting lately, hasn’t it?” she said, her tone reduced to a proper inside voice. 

“Yes,” stated her sister, “and we have been meeting up since the day he came into the café.” 

“…I was wondering why you kept coming back with so much ice cream.”

“ _Nice_ Cream, Tabitha,” Purrline corrected. “That’s the brand. It’s also how this fellow has been able to check in with Calico so often.”

Tabby frowned. “You know I hate that name, Purrl.”

“Yes, well,” Purrline stated primly, “you only seem to listen to me when I use it.”

An annoyed whine rumbled in Tabby’s throat. She looked back to Bluebell. “Well, Long Ears? Purrl says you’ve been keeping tabs on my brother. Spill.”

Despite the fact that both Cal and Purrline had warned him about Tabby’s “temperament”, Bluebell felt he needed to confess. Even if he hadn’t been cornered, he was still facing down someone who had (unwittingly or otherwise) worsened Cal’s isolation by stressing him to the near breaking point. And that seriously needed to be addressed.

“He…isn’t doing so well,” Bluebell told her. He winced as Tabby’s grip tightened, her manicured claws digging little half-moons into his flesh through his sleeves. She turned, enraged, and snapped at her sister.

“You see, Purrl?! I fracking _told_ you there was something wrong with him! But no- _ooooo_ , you had to be all, ‘Tabby, he needs his space’ and ‘Tabby, stop spying on him at work’ and ‘Tabby, stop threatening the security guards’! They wouldn’t NEED threatening if they would just let me see my brother!”

She let go of Bluebell with one hand so she could make a dramatic flexing of her claws.

“If you had just let me talk to that stupid robot boss of his, Cal wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Tabby,” Purrline deadpanned, “your idea of ‘talking’ was to pounce off a balcony onto the Underground’s most popular celebrity since Asgore and threaten to shred his gears if he didn’t allow you access to Calico’s apartment.”

“At least I’m willing to do something! You don’t even try to talk to him anymore!”

Purrline’s body trembled slightly but her face remained stonily calm. “You know very well that I have tried to contact him, Tabby, and that he brushes me off as easily as you.”

The youngest sister chortled mockingly. “Because all you do is leave a basket of food outside of his door! You’re enabling his playing hermit, Sis!”

“And if you made him lose his job, he’d withdraw even further!”

“Only until he got kicked out of his apartment, and then he’d have to come live with us again!”

Purrline let out an exasperated sigh. “Tabby, that plan has been horrible from the start! That’s why I told you to abandon it!”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“It’s not right!”

“It’s tough love!”

“It’s _cruel_!”

“It’s--”

“--- ** _ENOUGH!!!_** "

Swatting Tabby’s arm away caused her claws to catch in and rip his sleeve (and possibly his arm, from the way it started stinging), but Bluebell was through with the bickering. He stood, ears laid flat against his shoulder blades, the bellowing cry tearing its way out of his throat with such unbecoming rage that it surprised even him. Purrline scrambled back, dragging her little sister with her -- who immediately fell onto the couch, completely baffled. The fact that each sister suddenly tried to shield the other with one arm out of terror of him would have made Bluebell feel horrible at any other time. 

Right now, though? That was perfectly fine by him. He had their attention, and that was all that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting fairly long, so I had to cut it in two. 
> 
> To clarify, although it would be extremely cute and good potential for a love triangle, Purrline doesn’t also have a crush on Bluebell. She’s just the sort that gets extremely embarrassed far too easily over certain things. So unless you all want me to write an alternative one-shot like that, I probably won’t. 
> 
> Don’t forget to tell me what sort of job you want Burgerpants to eventually end up with for later in the series!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, unrelated, but many of you seem to really enjoy the character study and introspection of this fic. 
> 
> I have another long-fic in the works that is similar (albeit very much darker with pretty much no fluff whatsoever) revolving around Sans’ PoV in a Neutral Run - King Papyrus ending setting. So, if you really want your heart ripped out and stepped on, be sure to keep your eyes peeled for “Ineptitude”! ^-^
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, just wondering...but has anyone played Princess Maker 2, Prince Maker Braveness, or Long Live the Queen?


	23. True Colors

Bluebell stood tall, frowning down at the two cats as his insides churned with a mixture of frustration and growing rage.

“Will you two _listen_ to yourselves?” he asked them. “You’ve been bickering nonstop for the past five minutes, and all I’ve heard is how you both have been running circles around your brother in attempts that he will finally see things your way.”

Tabby gritted her teeth, her bared incisors extending to sharpened points. She raised up to confront him but her sister had her in a death grip with both arms, so Tabby could do nothing more than hiss and snarl. “Who are you to talk to me like that?!”

“I’m the guy--” he thumbed toward his chest before stabbing his index finger at Tabby’s face, “--who has had to watch your brother freak out because of you!” 

“Good!” Tabby shouted almost happily. “He should freak out! The sooner he realizes I won’t relent, the sooner he can get back to being the old Cal!”

“BEING TERRIFIED OF HIS OWN SISTER ISN’T A GOOD THING!” 

Tabby’s irises spread across her eyes, overtaking their whites and leaving her pupils two dark cracks amidst orbs of ominous translucent dark gold. A dangerous hiss exacted her as her own fur rippled with expanding muscles, and she jerked forward, teeth bared and fully shark-sharp. Bluebell wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated, and showed this by simply looking down at her, watching. 

“Are you through yet?” he asked with a huff. His retort brought an angry snarl from the youngest sister, but failed to make Bluebell even the slightest perturbed. 

Purrline was so shocked that she loosened her grip. Tabby instantly seized the opportunity, lunging forward--

 

\---Only to be shoved back down onto the couch with one blue-furred hand.

“Oh, no,” Bluebell said, “you’re not going anywhere. You are going to stay there and listen to what I have to say. Or were you lying when you said you wanted to know how your brother was doing?”

Tabby growled lowly, glaring at the rabbit the way a small child might view Brussels sprouts, before finally acquiescing.

“Fine,” she said with a glower. “Talk.”

“Will you listen? I mean actually listen instead of just grabbing one or two words to use as fuel for an argument?”

For someone as headstrong as Tabby, it must have been quite the blow to her pride to actually be called out over her behavior. She gnashed her teeth for a few moments but said nothing, obviously milling it over. It took a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and a soft plea from Purrline before Tabby finally promised to hear Bluebell out.

He allowed the cats to get more comfortable on the couch before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of them. His fingers linked and elbows draped over his knees, he looked between the two sisters. Purrline, sitting primly alert, warily glanced between him and Tabby. Tabby herself crossed her arms over her chest and one leg over the other, leaning back against the sofa cushions.

Waiting.

After a few moments, Tabby impatiently blurted, “Well?” Purrline nudged her with an elbow, prompting an annoyed hiss out of the lynx-like cat.

With careful consideration of what he was about to say, Bluebell began:

He told them how he met Cal and how their first conversation had been based around his ranting about his boss, how surprised he was when Cal showed up at his sister’s inn during the middle of a blizzard a few days later, how the patrons and his siblings had enjoyed Cal’s stories…Of how lost he looked at the pond. He talked about Cal’s shift in behavior, of how he went from a hesitant to confident performer at Snowdin back to withdrawing into himself once he returned to Hotland. Why Bluebell himself wound up at the café, his and Purrline’s meetings, the Nice Cream sessions with Cal, even the blowup at the apartment.

He didn’t mince words, fully acknowledging the fault of going behind Cal’’s back (even though he also admitted that he, too, had been unable to think of anything else).

Neither did he hide anything from the sister’s that might have lessened their concerns.

It did not surprise him when Purrline teared up over the discovery of what she had long suspected. 

He expected Tabby to stay enraged or to remain defensive, excusing her actions with huffy disdain. In the very least, he figured she would verbally tear his head off for upsetting Cal.

 

 

What he got was the rage fading to a dawning look of horror as his story unfolded. By the end of it, silent tears were trickling down Tabby’s face.

For the longest time, the bruiser of a cat could only stare, gaping, at Bluebell, unable to form a single comprehensible syllable. Purrline hadn’t noticed until she felt the trembling of her sister’s shoulders and saw her tufted ears flat against her head.

“Tabby…?”

“I…hurt him badly, didn’t I?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, eerily free of her earlier bravado. She sounded meek and almost…frightened. Slowly, she looked down at her lap, several tears falling onto her trousers and leaving dark splotches on the khaki-colored material. “I never…I never meant to…!”

The words wafted out of her, higher and softer until a wild banshee screech erupted from her, her eyes clamped tightly shut and her paws grasping at her lynx-like tufts of fur on her cheeks. The cry was enough that Bluebell flinched back, his arms and legs suddenly thrumming with magical energy as his body went on full alert for a possible impending conflict.

Certainly, Purrline shared his confusion, because the ear-piercing shriek from her sister set her fur on end and sent her leaping backwards onto the sofa arm -- and almost off the sofa entirely.

The rabbit and the peach-colored cat barely had time to exchange a bewildered glance before Tabby began half-sobbing, half-brokenly babbling:

“I-I never wanted to hurt him! I just…I just wanted him to _come home_! I thought if I kept at it, he’d finally have no choice but to come back!”

Purrline looked as though she was about to hug her sister but Bluebell held up a hand, gesturing for her to wait for a moment. “Why didn’t you just talk to him?”

Fingers going slack and falling to her lap, Tabby pierced him with bleary, desperate eyes, her face contorted into a grimace of sheer agony. “I DID talk to him! I _tried_ ,” she bawled. “Both Purrline and I, as well as every single one of his friends has! At least, before he drove them off.”

As Tabby dropped her head into her paws, Bluebell looked to Purrline, who instantly swept in and embraced her sobbing sibling. “But didn’t you say your parents were proud of his decision to become an actor?” She nodded.

“They were.”

“Then why go to such lengths to drive him back to the café?” Bluebell asked the eldest cat. “I get that his job is wearing him down and that he should find something else, but just bringing him back to the café isn’t going to help him further his dreams. Why do you want him to come back and give up on something that special to him?”

Was this what all of this was really about?

Were they really trying to bring Cal back not because of his wearisome job, but because they had stopped believing in him? 

The more Bluebell listened, the more it sounded that way to him. And it was giving him one massive headache.

Honestly, all Bluebell had wanted to do was hang out with and get to know Burgerpants better. Maybe go on a date or two (more if he was lucky). Even when he sensed something was off about his new buddy and crush, he had no idea that it would lead him into such an emotionally draining fiasco like this. 

During his meetings with Purrline, he had found out tidbits about Calico’s former self, and those had kept him motivated. After all, if something was wrong with his Burgy, there just _had_ to be something he could do to fix it. 

Oh, he knew there was a chance that he was fighting a losing battle. The rabbit had been around long enough to identify the signs of a monster fading. For monsters, the moment hope started to die was like reaching the short end of a candle wick.

That’s why, even though he was cheery by default, it was extremely hard for him to get close to many monsters outside of his family: _The ones he loved most always fell_.

Sure, he had friends. Sans, for example, was a prime joke buddy and confidante. But after…

 

 

…There were just some things that, even if you recovered from them, left scars on your soul.

He hadn’t wanted to be close to another monster. In fact, he had done pretty good at throwing himself into starting his own business, devoting what was left of his time to his siblings and nephew. It was a simple life, but it gave him something to do.

And then along came Calico “Burgerpants” Purrington.

Cal who, with his dramatic flair and hilarious expressions and witty banter, had captured his heart and brought the colors back into his dark, snow-covered world. Cal was the reason he had relocated his business. He was the reason his mother caught him in the kitchen at two in the morning hurriedly writing down messages in his Nice Cream wrappers. He was a reason there was a bounce in Bluebell’s step and his soul fluttered every time he saw a flash of orange.

Never in Bluebell’s life had his soul resonated so clearly with another monster’s, calling to him not to give up.

And, regardless of how tired he was from all of the footwork he was doing, the money he lost in relocating, or the time spent on pursuits that wound up flubbing up in the end, Bluebell would not dare think of it as “time wasted”.

No, he believed in Cal.

He knew the cat was destined for great things.

His siblings saw it. Frisk and Sans saw it. The patrons of the Snowed Inn saw it.

Bluebell wanted to be there to help the _rest of monsterkind_ see it.

 

 

And he was determined to start with these two cats who seemed to have lost all faith in their brother and his talents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Chapter 22 wound up as Chapters 22, 23 and 24. Heh heh…oopsie! This chapter and the remaining ones are what I have been waiting on for the entire fic and have been my absolute favorites to write because of the culmination of character development and the depth of emotional reveals in them. I really couldn’t write anything else based around this series until I got these out of the way for that very purpose (kinda like how Genocide Run wouldn’t rip your heart out as much if you did that first instead of a Neutral or True-Pacifist Route).
> 
> I am so super excited to upload these next ones that I’m bouncing in my seat while editing them. 
> 
>  
> 
> DON’T FORGET TO WEIGH IN YOUR THOUGHTS ON BURGERPANTS’ END CAREER FOR THE SERIES!!!


	24. How Do You Catch a Falling Star?

“What _is_ it?” Bluebell asked -- exhausted, confused, and thoroughly done with this whole mess. “What is so important that it requires you to drive Cal out of his job, his apartment, and nearly his mind?” 

Sniffling, Tabby wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeve as Purrline nestled in beside her, both arms pulling her sister in closer. She looked up at him, golden irises shimmering with misery. The two sisters shared a somber look. 

“Purrl?” Tabby said, some unspoken question passing between the cats. With a sigh, Purrline gave her sister a reassuring squeeze and nodded.

“Bluebell,” Purrline began, “we would be fine if our brother would just meet with us every once in a while. If there was any other way that he could become an actor, we would help with it. It isn’t just the long hours that worry us. It is how he has _changed_. It is how run-down he has become. How he has slowly pulled into himself over time to where. Even when he was still giving me the chance to suggest a better profession, he seemed to think that place was his only way up.” The eldest cat heaved a sigh. “I wonder if he thinks that is all he deserves anymore.”

“The old Cal never would have thought that,” Tabby butted in. “The old Cal wouldn’t be getting high all the fracking time, either!”

“Tabby!” Purrline’s eyes widened in shock.

“C’mon, Purrl,” Tabby pulled back from the hug slightly, the force having returned to her voice somewhat, “you know as well as I do that he’s been on drugs almost since Ma and Dad died. Everyone knows that -- ‘cept his boss, apparently. Overgrown calculator on wheels seems to be happy with dishing out a work schedule and running off rather than checking on his employees. Either that,“ her claws on one paw unsheathed dramatically, her pupils narrowing to slits, “or he sees Cal as competition. Why Cal ever idolized that stupid robot, I’ll never know. Really, four hours of letting ripped up flowers fall on him? Who makes a movie like that? Doesn’t matter if the screen resolution was nice -- Cal could make a better movie using a potato as a camera!”

Bluebell figured that Tabby had no idea that Mettaton actually spent part of his visits making bad jokes about her brother. Purrline had learned about it from a couple of girls who ran an alleyway shop outside of the resort and had told him. Considering how over-the-top Tabby’s snap judgments seemed to be, it was probably best Tabby wasn’t informed. Ever. Otherwise, that “gear-shredding” threat might just become a reality.

“He stole from the restaurant, you know.”

The rabbit’s eyes went wide, ears standing on end as Purrline screeched a protest. “Huh?!”

“Guess he didn’t tell you that, huh? Stop it, Purrl,” she said, batting away her sister’s hand when she tried to cap one peach-furred paw over Tabby’s mouth, “he needs to hear this.” 

Purrline was reduced to quaky hands and sputtering noises, the color leeching quickly out of the fur of her face. She seemed positively mortified at the revelation. Bluebell could understand why. It was bad enough to steal, but even worse when you had been raised to give back to the community. 

Surely, Tabby had to be mistaken, right…?

The conviction with which she spoke stated otherwise.

Swallowing down a bit of bile threatening to make its way up, he hoped it wasn’t so very bad. Maybe Cal had good intentions. Bluebell could not think of a good reason to steal besides being hungry, and that was easily enough solved without resorting to theft because monsters usually took care of one another. Maybe it was a prank or a way to get back at his boss. Cal was young, after all. Everyone was entitled to make a few mistakes.

Regardless of whatever excuses he could devise, it set off warning bells in his head anyway. Monsters on the verge of falling down would often make a 180 degree turn in personality. His fur stood on end, his soul flailing about in his chest in trepidation. He prayed it wasn’t so bad.

“What happened?”

“He got nicknamed, that’s what happened,” Tabby told him with a huff. “Tried to sneak some burgers out to a couple of chicks. Cal never was really good with crushes so I guess he thought bringing them food would work. Stuffing his pants with twenty-plus Glamburgers, though? It wasn’t his brightest moment, really. Not only did he get caught, but the weight of the food made his pants fall down -- in front of his boss AND the girls.” Tabby shook her head at the memory. “A few days later, he starts wearing this nametag that said ‘Burgerpants’ on it. Apparently, it was either public shaming or losing his job for stealing. Cal chose the former.”

_Ah, so_ that’s _how he got the nickname!_ Bluebell thought. He had to give Mettaton a few points for being generous…in a way. While it turned his stomach that the robot still continued to shame the cat, most people would have not only fired Cal on the spot but would have turned him over to the authorities. 

At least Cal’s reason wasn’t _too_ bad, even if it was very foolish. It sounded like something the cat would do. 

“I’m not saying it was any excuse to steal,” Bluebell said, “but it sounds like a silly mistake.”

“I think the robot just did it hoping Cal would get too embarrassed and leave,” Tabby told him. “Cal’s stubborn, though. Months down the road and he’s still there!” 

She sounded almost proud when she said that. Her face fell again soon enough, and though her facial features did not shrink inwards like her siblings’, it was obvious what she was feeling. Gently shrugging away her sister’s supporting embrace, she leaned forward, her arms crossed over her knees in a very Cal-like way and looked at Bluebell.

“The fact he would steal at all worries me,” she told him. “It’s the opposite of what Ma taught him and, regardless of how bad he is with people he likes, he has _never_ resorted to stealing. I knew he was isolating himself from us, but I thought it was because he didn’t want us bugging him about his job so much, or maybe he was grieving our parents in his own way. I dunno.” 

She waved a hand through the air, as if trying to shoo away her own jumbled thoughts. 

“The point is the stealing _scared_ me, so that’s when I let in on him. He’d run himself down without my being there for him, and he got into drugs because he wasn’t around enough for me to notice. I…I failed him as a big sister when he needed me most. I wanted to make up for that. Somehow, I guess I just…made things worse.”

Tabby seemed ready to drop her face back into her paws again when Purrline let out a keening cry, grabbing her sister by the shoulders and whirling her around. Bluebell was shocked to see the normally introverted and soft-spoken lady cat with angry slits for eyes and a voice brimming with rage.

“Now, you listen here, Tabitha Purrington!” she wagged one finger in her sister’s face. “I have told you time and again that you did NOT fail our brother as a big sister. I will not hear you say that again. Stop taking it upon yourself to play SuperMonster all of the time. You have been wearing yourself out and it has been fraying everyone’s nerves,” Purrline told her. “I already have one sibling I may be losing. I will not allow you to join him in such thinking, do you understand me?”

Bluebell vaguely heard Tabby squeak “You know I hate that name” before the familiarity of the scene struck a chord in one of his memories.

 

_“there was nothing you could have done, blue. this…happens to monsters sometimes. the fact you even noticed was a miracle. if you hadn’t done anything, the cost could have been much greater_ \--

 

“She’s right, Tabby,” Bluebell said. “You didn’t fail Cal. Both of you--” he made sure to include Purrline, “--have done all you can to let your brother know you care about him, even if the ways you’ve gone about it have been a little…unorthodox. The point is, even if he was staying with you all, he could still have wound up in a bad job or on drugs. It happens. I’ve seen it.”

The two cats straightened up, ears pricked toward the rabbit curiously.

Bluebell sighed. “You can’t control a person’s actions,” he told them. “You can try, but it’s just going to make things a whole lot worse for everyone involved if that’s not something they themselves want to do. You can nudge them in the right direction, but sometimes, they need more help than you can provide. The best you can do is offer your support. And not shred people’s screen doors.”

Tabby winced, letting out a soft chuckle. “Ouch. He told you about that?”

Purrline looked at her with the expression someone might have had they just punted a puppy, threw their hands in the air, and yelled “GOAL!”

“You and I,” the cat said lowly, “are going to have a little talk later, Sister.”

The younger sister flinched, her ears flattened as a guilty expression took over her face. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a chiding glare, Purrline turned back to Bluebell. “The main thing is now we try doing this another way. We’ve all got to get on the same wavelength about this if we really want to help Cal.”

“But how do we do that,” Tabby asked, “when he won’t talk to any of us?”

Silence settled over the room as the three fell away to pondering.

 

 

…Then, an image as clear and vivid as if he had already lived it once appeared to Bluebell’s mind, and a slow confidant smile spread across his face.

“I think I know just the way…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we have finished up Bluebell’s confrontation with the sisters. With only three more chapters to go, we are close to wrapping up this story. It’s been a fun ride, folks, but I’m eager to post the rest so we can get on with the series.
> 
>  
> 
> Once again, for those of you who haven’t posted your suggestion about Cal’s end career, let me know!


	25. A Little Help from Little Buddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Probably a few triggers in the next three chapters, because there is a LOT of mentions about death, depression and grief. Skip to the end of Chapter 27 (once it goes up) if you want to get past that.

Betrayal.

That’s what Cal felt. It was like Bluebell had taken an icicle and just jammed it straight through Cal’s soul and had only stuck around to hop in his dust.

He had been foolish to trust the rabbit. Of course, meeting someone seemingly as receptive of his affections and interested in the cat past the “Burgerpants” nametag and MTT-Brand uniform was too good to be true. Cal wondered just how long Bluebell and his sister had known one another. Had that meeting at the dump been staged? Were Macy and Sans in on this, too, as mere pawns in his elder sister’s well-meaning scheme? Was it even well-meaning anymore?

(Certainly, any sane person would have realized how complicated something like that would have been to pull off, but Cal’s jaded and broken heart flew instantly into conspiracy theories and paranoia.)

When he saw Purrline’s message thread on Bluebell’s phone, Cal’s whole world had shattered. Bluebell -- his one tiny flicker of a light in the darkness that was the Underground -- had been playing him for a fool the whole time. Not even when his former friends had turned against him for not dropping his dream and returning to the café had he felt so torn. The closest he had ever come to feeling like his soul had cracked was when his parents had passed away.

Bluebell’s betrayal practically cleaved it in _two_.

Saying that wasn’t an exaggeration by any means, either. Melodramatic as he sometimes could be, there was no hiding actual physical evidence. He had literally felt his soul _rip_ at the messages, and the slamming of the door in Bluebell’s shocked face was as loud and dooming a sound as if he had actually been struck with a fatal blow. His whole world jarred as Bluebell pounded on his door, pleading to let him explain, and he managed to make it to his bedroom and kick the door behind him before his senses shut down in the presence of the situation’s brevity. When he had awoken some hours later to the acute stabbing pain shooting throughout his body, Cal forced himself to check his soul.

For the most part, monsters only brought out their souls only rarely. Even though there was the potential to gain more power when one’s soul was bared to the right conductive elements, it was very easy for the magical center of a monster to be damaged irreparably if brought outside. Certainly, there were magics that could affect the soul and cause the body to which it belonged to levitate or slow involuntarily without bringing it out of the body, but so long as there was the protective force field of undamaged, magically sustained flesh, organs, bones and whatnot surrounding it, a soul had a chance.

Besides, a soul was such a very private thing to actual behold up close, so the reason for concealing it was not solely for self-preservation.

Bringing his soul out physically hurt, and he realized why once he saw it:

As the little inverted heart-shaped orb solidified into an exteriorly sustainable form, Burgerpants could see the damage. Monster souls had a tendency to take on small cracks whenever their owner had endured a great deal of mental or physical stress. Normally, these would disappear in time, but some tragedies left horrible rifts that could act as slow-bleeding wounds, gradually draining a monster of their magical energy until they fell down.

Staring down at his own magical core, Cal saw such a deep gash running nearly the whole length of it, with multiple jagged fissures splintering off from it. When his parents died, the dip between halves at the bottom had drifted skyward, increasing under the antics of his sisters, mean jokes of his boss and former idol, and cruel words of his former friends. 

Bluebell’s betrayal had torn it so badly that the sudden rip had caused him to pass out.

From looking at the waning red wisps of magic bleeding out of it and how painful it was to touch, Cal was surprised that he had woken up again, at all.

If he had had the choice…he probably wouldn’t have.

Exhausted beyond all comprehension, it was all Cal could do to pull himself up from the floor and get ready for work. With the crushing pressure in his chest impeding his breathing and his limbs feeling as heavy as if he had been doing chin-ups from the balcony railing all night, he was honestly tempted to just forgo his job, crawl into bed, and never come out again. Considering how fresh the memories of last night were, though, it felt more stifling to remain in his apartment than to face his jerk of a boss and usual entourage of dim-witted customers.

At least he would have quicker access to security’s help if Tabby decided to come after him again.

After downing enough coffee to make himself halfway functional (albeit very jittery), Burgerpants -- still wearing the same uniform from the night before -- left his apartment, sparing a bitter glance at Purrline’s scattered and ruined food before heading downstairs.

 

 

With as much as he had been through lately, Burgerpants was surprised when his boss was late showing up for his every-other-day routine of tormenting the dickens out of his feline employee. It was hardly a solace because Cal spent most of the morning with nerves wound so tight they were nearly ready to snap. Why couldn’t that blasted robot just show up already so they could get this whole usual shaming charade over and done with…?

His ears pricked when he heard the ding of the counter bell.

Heading out of the kitchen, his exasperatedly strained smile on his face, he walked out, repeating the daily greeting.

Oh.

That wasn’t Mettaton.

A small child looked up at him curiously from the other side of the counter. They were strangely familiar but Burgerpants couldn’t quite place them until he noticed they were wearing a blue-and-purple striped sweater.

_That’s_ his _little customer, isn’t it?_

For a moment, Cal was tempted to ask how Frisk was doing but stopped himself. For one thing, he really didn’t feel like acknowledging a certain rabbit even existed at the moment, so admitting he knew about the kid would be doing just that. Besides that, Mettaton had actually brought this kid onto his shows and, despite the grand setup, hadn’t actually harmed them. A twinge of jealousy ran through him, reminding him that his boss seemed to be kind to even the smallest of fans…except for Burgerpants.

Speaking of MTT, if this was the kid from his shows, that surely meant the robot was close behind, right?

Smile strained to the widest, he hoped he might be able to get out of the worst of the inevitable trauma if he was nice to the newest star. Who knew if the robot was going to burst into the restaurant and film the next segment of his “human chasing” there? Pretty much the rest of the programming had arbitrary settings, so why not the renovated fast food joint? It would probably reignite the hype over the corner greasy spoon again.

Frisk hands flew out in a flurry that reminded Cal of the hand signals in the ninja anime from where he got his Tabby-avoiding inspiration from. Oh, wait, that was sign language, wasn’t it? He remembered how B--

…Cal had heard the kid used sign language.

Fortunately, he had had to learn sign language at an early age because some of the monsters that came into his parents’ café spoke entirely through gesture. He was a little bit rusty, but he found himself able to make out their words soon enough.

For someone who didn’t say a word, they sure were a chatterbox. Agh, no, what if they asked Cal about that - that - that stupid _Nice Cream vendor_? He could feel his soul quivering with a ill rhythm and his stomach lurch with nausea. No, he had to pull the plug on this before things went anywhere. Maybe he could redirect the kid’s attention…?

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing weakly, “it’s against the rules to talk to customers who haven’t bought anything.”

The kid stared blankly at him for a moment before gesturing out an order.

Oh, well, that wasn’t what he had planned but it still gave him time away from the kid. Children could have such short attention spans sometimes. Maybe if he took his time, they would go away. There weren’t any other customers around, so he didn’t see why not. Sweat beaded on his head and extremities -- a cold sweat, not one brought on from the steam of the fryer -- as his stomach continued to churn.

_I really need a smoke right now_ , he thought bitterly. He couldn’t, though, because if his boss walked in, he would lose his job. And smoking in front of a kid? That was something that _he_ would never approve of and--

Wait, why did he care what that blasted rabbit thought anymore? 

What was the point in even caring about this job anymore?

He was already nineteen-years-old and had wasted his entire life on a pointless pursuit. On pointless _people_. Everyone he had ever invested time in disappointed him or had tried to drive him to the brink. Every time he got involved with someone, they always wanted something: Glamburgers, for him to drop his dream and do what they thought was “right”, to hurry up and stop feeling pain they could never understand when they hadn’t ever even LOST ANYONE--

The smell of burning synthetic meat brought him out of his daze, and he scrambled to save the blackening patties. Upon realizing he would have to start all over, Cal violently batted the ruined burgers across the room before leaning against the wall, panting heavily and squinting his eyes shut and trembling with trying to physically will away the hurt inside of him.

_Dammit, I could REALLY use a smoke right now!_

 

 

Cal put together the order of several Glamburgers, taking a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down. He was a wreck, though, and he knew it. Avoiding glancing at any reflective surfaces to tell him how much, knowing the child was watching him from where they were peeking over the top of the counter, he used the almost instinctual routine of applying lettuce, purple onions, ketchup, mustard, and glitter-and-sequins-covered patties between rose-colored hamburger buns to clear his mind. After wrapping the burgers with a flourish, he put them in a bag (an obvious hint for them to leave), set them on the tray and hauled them out to Frisk, hoping the kid would leave once they got their order.

The kid looked at the bag before smiling and gesturing.

_I bought something_ , they motioned, smiling. _Now you won’t get in trouble for talking!_

Oh, this kid was clever, using the loophole in the rules like that. Crossing his arms over his chest, he decided he liked this kid. Their snarky wit reminded him of his pre-Glamburger days, so he decided to indulge them. It wasn’t like he had to worry about a lot of customers since even the lunch rush had been more of a snail crawl that day.

So he talked.

And talked.

And talked some more.

Logically, he knew he was heading into some dark territory, but he found himself less and less able to care. There was a willing verbal springboard in from of him that couldn’t berate him aloud. So, unimpeded by someone talking down to him every five seconds or threatening him, the dam of troubles just burst forth. He talked about how he hated his job, his boss, his wasted life. He told them about how he had wanted to be an actor and he got the nickname so brazenly proclaimed on his nametag. He told them about the girls in the alley. Whatever the child prompted him to talk about, he did so and with dramatic expression.

Of course, most of the ramble stopped making sense beyond emotional spew fairly early. Realizing he was headed into a mental breakdown so he pulled out a blunt and lit up right there at the counter. It didn’t matter that his job was forfeit if it got back to his boss. He knew he had to calm down. He did kinda feel bad when the kid pulled out a bandana (were those ABS drawn on it?) and tied it around their nose and mouth to block out the scent, so he at least blew the smoke away from them.

At least on the first joint.

Frisk eventually moved to a table out of the smoke’s range, listening to the cat’s rant as he began chain smoking. Cal lost track of time soon enough, and track of his words even faster. 

( _“When I first came to Hotland…” Wait, when did I leave Hotland? Well, there was Snowdin…that damn rabbit…was that…I think that was before I started working for that stupid ’ro_ butt _‘? Maybe…? Freaking feels like I’ve been hurting since forever, thanks to that frost-brained fluff ball. Ugh, who freaking cares?!_ )

Eventually, his thoughts led him back to… _him_.

To Cal’s credit, he didn’t break down while talking. There was a chance ( _A very slim chance_ , he told himself) he might have had he ever actually been able to say his name. When he tried, however, the most he could get out was the “B” before his throat felt as though it were closing up, and he had to take a long drag just to be able to calm down from the very raw rage the name brought with it. He finally just referred to the rabbit as the “Nice Cream guy” in a passing comment that lessened the burden on his soul without delving into too much before rambling off another spiel about something else.

Finally, toward the end of his third blunt, his bleary eyes registered a tiny hand sliding a piece of something brown across the counter to him. Wobbling a bit, he took the last long drag of his blunt and lifted the brown thing (cardboard, he realize) to his face and tried to make out what was on it. 

His smug stoner grin spread wide. “Aww, Little Buddy,” he slurred, “didja draw me something?”

He heard a soft “Nuh-uh” as he flipped the jagged piece of cardboard over. The lines on the paper didn’t look much like a drawing, though. Maybe if he turned it and looked at it another way---

Oh.

Those were _words_ , right? Had his new Little Buddy written him something, then?

He slowly read the words, letting them mill around in his mind for a bit before their meanings actually settled in. Wait, did this kid call him a brat…?

 

 

The stubby end of the blunt fell out of his mouth onto the counter.

It was a note from Catty and Bratty!

 

_**Meet us in the alley at 8 sharp tonight! Like, not a moment sooner or later!**_

__

_**\--Bratty & Catty** _

__

_**P. S. Like, you don‘t need to bring us Glamburgers again. Just yourself.** _

 

Cal couldn’t believe it. Those two incredibly attractive monster girls he had tried ages to talk to again and redeem himself of the “Burgerpants” incident had invited _him_ to hang out with _them_. Rubbing his eyes, he squinted and reread the note several times over before turning to Frisk, the sudden coursing of excitement-fueled magic forcing away his cannabis-induced haze.

“This isn’t a joke, right?”

Frisk shook their head, smiling. _Don’t forget_ , they gestured to him, _eight o’clock sharp!_ As if he actually needed reminded for something this big!

An image of a certain rabbit’s smile appeared before his mind’s eye but he haughtily stubbed it out along with the fallen blunt on the counter. He wasn’t going to let that dumb bunny (or anyone else for that matter) stop him from this.

Even if the desire to hang out with those girls had diminished over the course of those weeks of Nice Cream sessions and prattling late-night texts, he was still going to check it out.

_Maybe my luck is finally changing for the better…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long, but I really couldn’t find a good place to break this one. Aaaaaand I kinda, sorta…wrote too much so now this fic has 28 instead of 27 chapters. I SWEAR 28 is going to be the limit You lovelies don’t mind a bit more meat in your writing, right~?
> 
> I wanted to add more of the Neutral/TP Route canon and the patch dialogue, but it turned out as more vague allusions than actual word-for-word script. This fits better, though, considering Burgerpants gets wrapped up in his own problems so much that he doesn’t even notice Frisk leaves to talk to the girls and comes back.


	26. Feeling Like a Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: A lot more references to grief, death, and suicide. So, if you really don’t think you can deal with that right now, please skip to the end of Chapter 27. I’ll post a quick summary of these two chapters in the Author Notes there for those that have.

Lady Luck seemed to favor Cal the whole day through, because Frisk was his only customer for the remainder of the shift. His boss had never shown up, either, so his mood -- while not greatly improved -- was much more manageable. Cal had nearly everything cleaned up and ready to leave hours before his…appointment? He dared not call it a “date” because there was no romantic implication in the note, unless he took the time into consideration. Even so, his soul was far too pained to even consider something like _that_. In the future, maybe. Perhaps when King Asgore finally found another human soul, he could take one (or both!) on a date on the Surface.

Not a movie date, though. The last movie…”thing”…he had ended terribly. Besides, those girls were wa- _aaaaaaay_ to into his boss for comfort. 

_Come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t be so hyped to hang out with someone who adores that overgrown calculator. They probably wouldn’t believe anything I say about their idol. I wouldn’t have -- back when I actually cared, that is._

A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that there was one certain _someone_ who wouldn’t have chosen the Underground’s most popular celebrity over him.

He quickly banished said tiny voice to the far recesses of his mind for reminding him of the rift in his soul.

Burgerpants waited impatiently for his shift to end and it was only the emphatic “8 sharp” that kept him from taking out into the alley right then. He had gone out and hoped to at least wave and confirm the meeting with the girls, but when he had taken the trash out, there was a gaudy glitter-and-paw/claw print sign hanging over their booth that said they would be back soon.

Part of him wondered if it was a joke. Frisk didn’t seem like the sort to play mean jokes like that, but the messenger hardly ever decided what the message-giver had planned. 

Still, on the offhand chance it _wasn’t_ a prank, Cal decided he would at least try to make a good third impression (seeing as how his second one had landed him covered in garbage and led him to meet up with a certain soul-crushing frozen treat maker).

Not caring if Mettaton showed up, he left the restaurant early and returned to his apartment, lingering just long enough to take a shower and change into some clean clothes. 

As he was about to leave, though, he spotted the red leather jacket he had worn to Snowdin lying on his dresser. Why he hadn’t put it away when he had scrubbed the rest of his house from top to bottom was beyond him. He picked up the jacket, running a thumb over the thick, smooth hide before bringing it to his nose and taking a deep whiff. It still smelled slightly of ginger and butter where he had a cooking mishap making supper for the bunnies. 

His soul throbbed at the bittersweet memory. That trip had been the first time Cal had been happy in a long time, and it was only because of…

Heaving a sigh, Cal lowered the jacket. It had all been a ruse, he reminded himself. A ruse planned by his sisters. It _had_ to be. Right?

That tiny voice in his mind told him that the bewildered look on _his_ face after watching Cal’s sisters chase him into a dumpster looked fairly honest. Maybe _he_ hadn’t actually met his sisters up until that point. Couldn’t it have been possible that they had run into each other later? The Underground was a small world, after all.

It was too late for that now, though. Cal pulled out his cell phone and looked forlornly at the screen. Maybe he should have checked those messages and voicemails instead of instantly deleting them. Maybe he shouldn’t have blocked his number the way he had his sisters’.

_You could always unblock it_ , that little voice said. Frowning, Cal stuffed the phone back into his pocket and sighed. No, he wasn’t about to open that can of worms again any time soon. He didn’t think his soul could take it.

Without mulling it over any longer, he donned the jacket. That thing had always made him feel confident, and he really felt too exposed without a little extra cover. Even though the lingering smell caused his soul to quiver with a waning, agonized beat, he felt far better with it than without it.

Heaving a sigh, he headed out.

 

Burgerpants strolled into the alley a bit more cautiously than he would have liked, but that was because he hadn’t seen the girls anywhere near the booth when he opened the back door of the restaurant. The gaudy sign was missing, though, and he saw a wrapped box with a bow on it sitting on the center of the stall table.

Trepidation slightly increasing, he looked around to make sure neither of his sisters were in sight. Seeing the empty fire escapes and hearing no familiar Purrington voices, he sauntered over to the booth.

Surprisingly, there was a card on the box addressed to Burgerpants:

 

_**To Burgerpants:**_

_**Like, we had to step out for a moment, but this is for you!** _

 

A bit wary that the present might turn out to be a gag gift (he could honestly imagine being the victim of one of those cartoon Boxing Gloves-in-a-Box), he nervously picked up the package and heard something slide around inside. Whatever it was likely wasn’t a threat, seeing as how light-weighted the package was, but he still exercised caution as he undid the ribbon and pulled away the lid.

 

The box trembled in his grasp as he looked down at its contents:

Inside, there was a single frozen treat wrapped in white paper. On the exterior of the wrapper were three words written in large slanted script:

 

**Please Forgive Me**

 

…All day.

He had spent _All. Day._ blocking out the rabbit’s name from his thoughts. Now, his mind was flooded with images of the Nice Cream vendor and his soul was screaming that forbidden word:

“Bluebell.”

Cal swore he could sense the other monster long before he got to him. He sat the box down on the stall but gripped the open top of it, using the sturdy cardboard as an anchor to keep his trembling legs from either collapsing beneath him or springing over the back door so he could lock himself back inside of the MTT-fracking-Brand Burger Emporium (who gives a *Froggit croak* about the Trademark?).

“Another trick, Bluebell?” the words fell out of him in a stream of venom.

He heard the slight shuffle of feet behind him as the rabbit stopped. “When have I ever tricked you?” 

The rabbit’s voice was sad but it did not stop Cal from rounding on him, fangs flashing and claws bared. “What do you call going behind my back and reporting my every move to Purrline like I’m some sort of damsel in distress needing rescued, then?!” he spat, not caring if the rabbit’s ears looked about as lifeless as limp carrots. This was the Bluebell’s own fault and Cal was not about to be made to feel guilty for someone else making him feel bad yet again. “What did you do to get these alleyway vendors to give up their booth, huh? Bribery?”

“Yes,” Bluebell plainly admitted. Burgerpants grimaced in disgust. He should have known it was just part of another scheme…

“Why? Did you come back to try and play hero again? Well, take that garbage back to the dump where it belongs, because I’m NOT going back to the café, regardless of what your - your… your _girlfriend_ tells you!”

By Asgore, did that _hurt_! He could feel the gritty tearing of his soul as the word “girlfriend” left his lips and the mental image of the two of them -- his once beloved elder sister and the monster he had only just realized he had grown to care deeply for -- embracing sent bile and the coffee he had tried to hurry up his sobering rushing straight up his throat. With one hand clutching his chest just below the base of his throat (in case he had to cover his mouth, as his stomach certainly had thrown up some red flags), he swore at Bluebell and stomped off toward the back door.

The moment he opened the door, however, he found himself stopped by Bluebell’s pleading.

“Cal, I’m not with your sister, for Asgore’s sake! I never was! I only met her after coming to Hotland to visit you. Will you _please_ , just this once, listen to me?!”

With an angry hiss, Burgerpants growled out, “Why should I? So you can just cover up something else? So you can lecture me? So you--”

“ _ **Will you please just allow me to explain!!!**_ ”

Not wanting to deal with the monster who was making the rift in his soul even worse, Cal simply opened the door fully. As he stepped one foot onto the MTT-red tile, Bluebell’s words (and how absolutely broken he sounded) stopped him:

“Just…please, Burgy,” he begged, “just let me explain. I swear, if you don’t like what you hear, I’ll…I’ll never bother you again. As much as that pains me, I’ll give you my word that you will never hear from me again. But please…just…”

For a long moment, Cal just stared into the kitchen, contemplating whether he should just mutter some saucy remark and slam the door in Bluebell’s face. But no, he wouldn’t do that. That was something his boss would do. Something his former friends had done when they got into a tiff over Cal’s not changing to suit their designs.

Instead, he simply stood there and, without turning around, mumbled, “Explain then.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and it was a few moments before there was any other sound besides the sound of usual evening foot traffic outside of the resort and the buzzing of the bug light by the door. Finally, Bluebell began:

“That day I came to visit you -- the day you got chased? That was the first day I met your sisters.” 

Bluebell went on to tell Burgerpants about how concerned he had been and how he had tracked down the other felines, hoping to sort out a potentially dangerous mess. He claimed he and Purrline started talking at the café and only began texting and occasionally meeting up at his Hotland-relocated Nice Cream stand after that -- all to check on Cal.

“She told me about how you used to perform at the café every Friday night, right after you were done with your homework,” he said almost fondly. “I wish I had been able to see that, but I guess I’m luckier than them. You came all of the way out to Snowdin in the middle of a blizzard to give my family and me a free performance.”

Swallowing hard, Cal glanced back toward the rabbit and said, “Well, those days are gone and are never coming back. I hate this job. It may be nothing but a huge pain in the tail with a boss who is an even bigger one, but I have invested far too much time in it to give up now. Maybe if Asgore’s plan is ever finalized and we get to the Surface, I can finally become an actor.” He turned back to Bluebell and gave the rabbit a hard, determined look. “But I _won’t_ go back to the café. If I do, I’ll never been any closer to my dream than I am now. If I’m going to be stuck flipping burgers, it may as well be where I have a chance of being on TV -- even if it’s just a shot in one of Mettaton’s broadcasts.”

With that, he turned away from Bluebell, falling silent. After a few moments with neither monster saying a word, he asked,

“…What, no lecture? No, ‘you’ll never make it as an actor’? No, ‘you’re hurting your sisters with your bad attitude’? No, ‘you‘ve already wasted nineteen years of your life so why are you going to waste the rest of them by hinging on childish daydreams and getting high‘?” Cal looked back, brows furrowed, and spat, “Well, say something!”

Bluebell’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide and ears leaned back with a strange mix of horror and disgust. In a completely baffled voice, he asked, “Who on earth told you that? Did…did your sisters--”

Burgerpants huffed, turning fully towards the rabbit. “Nah. Tabby gave me down the road for not taking Purrline’s food, but she’s more of the type to drag me back to the café kicking and screaming than use words. And Purrline…” He shook his head, “Nevermind.”

“Your boss?”

“Pfft! That stupid box on wheels doesn’t care enough to learn about his employees. He just thinks my work ethic sucks.”

“Then _who_?”

“Meh, old friends I had. Keyword being ‘had’,” he told Bluebell. “It’s why I don’t have friends anymore.”

Bluebell looked extremely hurt at the comment but didn’t protest the cutting remark. “Do your sisters know?”

Burgerpants let out a hollow laugh, looking away. “Would it matter if they did? They probably think the same thing by now. Two years and I’m still flipping burgers without a acting job in sight.”

Silence fell between them, the buzzing of the bug lamp reigning over all.

Then…

“Purrline told me,” Bluebell said softly, almost hesitantly, “about the eleventh.”

Well, if that didn’t just tear his soul further! Like he really needed to be reminded of his parents’ deaths right now. He wasn’t really surprised Bluebell knew; he had been talking to Purrline and, for all of the rabbit’s texts about his family, Burgy never talked about his own (besides that one rant about his sisters). For a moment, Cal pondered if they made superglue for souls.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bluebell asked. 

Huh, why was he looking so betrayed now? It wasn’t like Cal had gone behind his back with anything. Cal was tempted to tell him as much, too, but instead just settled for a shrug and a weary humph. Why would Bluebell even want to know about something like that? It wasn’t like his other stories. His parents’ deaths were not funny or amusing in any way.

Seeing he would receive no real answer from Cal, Bluebell added, “No one should have to go through a death anniversary alone.”

With a bitter huff, Cal shouted, “Why not? I did with their actual death!”

Bluebell looked positively _mortified_ at that statement.

“…What?” he finally managed to get out.

Burgerpants gestured wildly with his arms, letting the door fall back to behind him. “Look, I don’t handle funerals well, alright? I’m an actor and I don’t even handle real _emotions_ well,” he told Bluebell. “You have no idea how awful it was to see your strongest of siblings break into a million pieces and have your parents very DUST in your hands. I couldn’t deal with their grief and mine too, and that café has so many memories that I just…” 

The bile was back in his throat again and he rubbed a clammy hand over his mouth, praying it would stay down. 

“I just threw myself into my job after that, trying to work things out for myself. But then everyone started coming over and I was not only faced with my sisters’ grief -- which was killing me because I could not help, mind you -- but also each and every one of my ‘friends’--” the word fell from his lips, as acidic as the core of a spent battery, “--kept telling me I needed to abandon my dream and go back into a mess that was _ripping_ my freaking _SOUL_ apart!”

Eyes gleaming with tears, Burgerpants bared his fangs in a glower at Bluebell. 

“As much as I hate this stupid job with a stupid boss that gets off on making my life a living nightmare, I would rather _become dust_ than give up my dream,” he said, his words a low growl. “Ma and Dad used to always encourage me to follow that dream, and I spent the last year of their lives getting so caught up in trying to pursue that dream that I stopped visiting them. That precious little time they had left in this world I freaking _wasted_ with this stupid job!”

He leaned back against the door, utterly defeated and exhausted. “Giving up,” he told Bluebell, “would be like kicking my parents’ memory _in the teeth_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody got a box for my feels?
> 
> Also, double-post today, my lovelies~!


	27. Never Judge a Nice Cream by its Wrapper

There.

He had finally admitted it: The real reason he put up with MTT’s cruel jokes, the ungodly high turnover rate, the mind-numbing burger-flipping and finger-aching sequins-pasting. 

All of it…was because of his _guilt_.

In his attempt to impress his idol through that blasted job that first year, he hardly had time to see his parents, save when they were able to escape the chaos of the café to come visit. Many times, he had been so tired that he just put off their after-work visits. His pursuit of his dreams had taken away from the precious time he had left with them, and it still ate at the rift their sudden death had marked on his soul.

It was why he deserved to suffer.

Why he didn’t deserve real friends.

Why he didn’t deserve--

“Burgy… _Cal_.”

_Oh, Asgore_ , Burgerpants thought and clamped his eyes shut. 

He had just admitted the greatest of his sins to the months’ long object of his affections. It was the absolute last thing he had ever wanted any monster to find out. And here he had to go and bare his already tortured soul and finish off what little chance he ever had for reconciliation. Bluebell, so closely tied to his parents and siblings, would never, _ever_ understand.

Bluebell…would never view him as anything but the horrible, wretched creature he had finally shown himself to be.

Head bowed, his eyes brimming with tears, Calico softly said, “I don’t deserve to be an actor. I deserve to roast in this hell that I have created for myself.” As a fake smile spread across his face, he blinked, sending several tears plummeting to the pavement below, leaving darker splotches against the already sooty cement. “Go ahead, Bluebell. Tell me what you really think of me now that you’ve heard the full story.”

_I deserve every bit of your tricks and your hatred for your wasted time_ , he thought grimly, accepting his fate along with the cold, fading beat of his own miserable soul.

After a few long moments, he heard Bluebell say softly, “Alright.” The rabbit’s feet shuffled against the ground and Cal winced as he drew closer, expecting to be yelled at or cuffed upside the head…Something awful. He just didn‘t know what. “Since you asked, I’ll tell you what I think of you.”

Gulping, Cal clamped his eyes shut, waiting.

“But…”

_‘But’?_

“…Only if you will hear out what I am about to say first.”

Anxiety building for an impeding lecture, Cal resignedly nodded. Taking in and letting out a few deep breaths, Bluebell finally began:

“You say I don’t have any idea what it is like to lose a parent,” he said, “and that’s true. But I am not unaccustomed to loss, Cal.”

Cal blinked. Bluebell had lost somebody? Had something happened recently that the rabbit had spared him from? Had Cal, yet again, gotten so caught up in his own little world that he had been blinded to even Bluebell’s hurt? 

He looked up, horrified, and asked about Macy and Bluebell’s other siblings. 

Fortunately, Bluebell shook his head and Cal could not help but let out a sigh of relief. That sort of loss was something he never wished on Bluebell. But if it wasn’t his siblings, then who…?

“Several of my old friends fell down. A few…made their dusting come on quicker than it should,” he hesitantly admitted. “All of their deaths were bad, but there was one that…By Asgore, it’s still hard to think about.” 

Cal’s ears and head slowly raised, though Cal still didn’t look right at Bluebell.

“You know my sister, Macy?”

Cal nodded.

“Her late husband,” he started, “and my brother-in-law, Boxer. We were best pals from the time we were bunnies. Nearly inseparable to the point visiting monsters thought we were siblings. Well, Boxer…he didn’t have the best start. He lost his mother at an early age, then his father. Both suicides. He didn’t witness them but he found their dust. He wound up staying with his three older siblings who lived much farther out in Snowdin Forest -- back toward an area that used to be mined a lot. Around the time Macy was going to give birth to my nephew, he got word that the tunnel had caved in and every monster in it had been killed -- including each of his brothers.”

Cal heard Bluebell let out a harsh, ragged sigh before continuing, “Boxer just…sorta lost himself after that. He started smoking, drinking, staying out at all hours… Sometimes, I’d find him just sitting in the woods, staring up at the cave ceiling, and he’d say scary things like, ‘We are never going to get out of here, Blue. I will never see the sun’. It _really_ started freaking me out when he added how his son would never see it, either.”

Burgerpants felt a twinge of pain shoot through his soul. How many times had he done that same thing? Just…walked out onto the balcony or into the back alley to have a smoke, stared up at the stalactites, and thought _I am never going to make it out of here_? 

Of course, it was one thing to think that about a miserable creature like himself -- and another thing entirely to say that about a baby monster who hasn’t even had the chance to be jaded with life yet!

“We all knew something was wrong, but we tried to put on a happy face for Boxer. Everyone hoped that, when his kid was born, the old Boxer would come back around. And, when Junior was born, he did -- for a few months, anyway. Then he was back to the old habits. Sometimes, when he thought now one would see him, he would just get this horrible lost look on his face. It worried everyone, but the more interest he took in caring for Junior, the more everyone sorta overlooked it. I guess we all hoped he had pulled out of it.”

Sighing, he said, “One day, he came into the house and actually looked happy. For the first time in months, he looked _actually_ happy. He said he had the great idea of going to Hotland to pick out a present for Macy’s birthday, and he was going to take Junior because he had friends there who hadn’t yet seen the kid. He picked up my nephew from my mother’s and told them he was going to take the river route out of Snowdin.” 

Bluebell chuckled hoarsely. Cal watched the rabbit’s fingers curl into fists.

“The funny part, though? I had helped Boxer pick out Macy’s present just two days earlier. I had it hidden in my room, under the bed.”

Cal felt his stomach sink. Surely, Bluebell’s brother-in-law hadn’t…

“When I heard what happened, I knew. I _knew_ what he was going to do. Two of my other friends had gotten so peaceful right before they ended it. Now, the signs leading up to what happened were so obvious,” he told Cal, and the cat heard his knuckles pop as the rabbit clenched his fists tighter. “I ran as fast as I could to the river, and got there not a moment too soon. ’River Route’. Heh. He always was a punny guy, Boxer. It wasn’t so funny when his way out of Snowdin meant his way out of life.”

_Oh Asgore…_

The moment Cal saw the dark spots join his own fallen tears on the ground, his head shot up and he looked up at Bluebell, whose face was, predictably, an absolute wreck. The rabbit’s ears lay like limp lettuce leaves over his shoulders, his normally red nose had gone scarlet with emotion, and his facial fur lined was with tear streams.

“…I had to fight him, Cal,” Bluebell said. “Junior was too small to have survived a dip in that hypothermic water. He actually _fought_ me while his _own infant son_ was strapped in a sling and held to his chest!” 

He was unable to continue for several minutes. Slowly, Cal began to notice that the ripping ache in his soul had started to dull as the pulse strengthened, his arms instinctively itching to reach out and surround the hurting monster in front of him.

“He…I was trying to disorient him so I could knock him down or wear him out. I had to get Junior away from him because Boxer just wouldn‘t listen to reason. I use ice magic, so, one of my attacks…” The rabbit shook his head. “One second, there was an icicle in his hand. The next, Junior is crying in the middle of his father’s dust.”

Cal’s hands trembled as Bluebell sniffled and wiped the tears away from his face.

“Logically, I know that if I hadn’t tried to stop him, my nephew wouldn’t be here,” Bluebell said, drawing himself back up to his normal height, “but I still blamed myself. After that, it was hard to stay around my family because they were all grieving. I put on a cheery face because that’s what everyone needed. The five Nice Creams I gave Cotton? Yeah, that was where that came from,” he admitted. “In fact, the name actually came from my brother’s idea because he said they were so nice and made him feel better. I found one of those ‘positive affirmations’ books at the garbage dump and started writing messages on wrappers of homemade ice magic-imbued ice cream. I turned it into a small business. That’s what got me out of the house and gave me something to keep my mind on.”

He put a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “We all have regrets, Burgy,” he told the cat, “but if we let them control us, we miss out on the life our loved ones would have wanted for us. You said your parents always encouraged your dream, right?”

Cal nodded.

“Then I can’t see them being happy about your blaming yourself for their death and missing some time with them. Children grow up and move out and have lives of their own. Whether it is being an actor, or cooking, or whatever--” he said, leaning down, “--don’t you think they would have wanted you to be happy? Can you really tell me that you believe your parents would have wanted you to suffer like this, all alone and isolated within yourself?”

Cal’s eyes could not have grown wider in shock even if sunlight had suddenly broken through the cave ceiling of Hotland.

“…No,” he finally admitted to himself, “they always told me they wanted me to be happy.”

Bluebell brought a finger down, tapping Burgerpants lightly on the nose, and smiled warmly and reassuringly. Cal did not have to hear the unspoken words of the other monster’s thoughts. 

The cat finally understood.

“I don’t know about these old ‘friends’ of yours,” Bluebell said, “but I do know your sisters care about you. Their methods haven’t been the best, but I sat down with them and I’ve seen they really have just been desperately trying to make sure they don’t lose you the same way I did Boxer. Tabby promised me that if you just call them every once in a while, she won’t shred any more of your screen doors.”

Instantly, Cal burst into laughter. Of all things to add to a pep talk, Bluebell had to add that! He shook his head before leaning forward, tapping his head against Bluebell’s chest in a farce of a head butt. His laughter turned out to be contagious and Bluebell found himself chuckling away, too. Burgerpants found the rumbling vibrations of Bluebell’s chest to be very comforting, indeed.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You’re an even bigger one,” Bluebell retorted playfully. A gentle touch beneath his chin caused the cat to look up. “Cal,” the rabbit said, “I know you’ve invested a lot of time in this job, but you’ve admitted it’s killing you. Why don’t you try another job in the hotel or something? Or even just step back and try doing an indie film or something? You don’t have to give up on your dream but maybe you should take a break and relax for a bit.”

Cal wanted to protest about how it would probably be a cold day in Hotland before his egomaniacal boss would ever let him take another position at the resort, but he really, _really_ needed a break.

“You’re such a mother hen, Blue,” Cal told him, “but yeah, I think a fresh start would be nice.”

Bluebell sighed happily. Cal conceded this battle’s victory to him.

Though his soul still hurt, there was a different sort of ache that started up within him. That heavy, growing pulse of his soul made the deep rift in his core sting, but it also filled him with a warmth that had been slowly leaking out of him over the past few days. Being so close to Bluebell, feeling the warmth his body and soul exuded, hearing his laughter, seeing his smile…

Slowly, he could almost feel the fissures in his soul repairing themselves.

“Regardless of where your dreams take you,” Bluebell told him, “I would love to see the journey. That is,” his smile softened, “if you’ll give me another chance?”

_‘Another chance‘?_ Bluebell wanted Cal to give _him_ another chance. Asking for it, even!

_Oh, yeah, he was asking for it, alright_ , Cal decided as a wide grin split his face.

“Yeah, sounds good to me,“ Cal said, finding himself leaning up as the rabbit leaned down…

 

_Bzzz! Bzzz!_

 

Cal rolled his eyes. Whoever the heck was calling him could just wait a few more moments. Subtly, he pressed a couple of buttons on the side of his phone through his pocket to shut it off, then looked back up to Bluebell with an inviting smirk.

…Only to be interrupted by a jaunty electronic tune belting out from _Bluebell’s_ pocket.

This time, the rabbit rolled his eyes. Apologizing, he dug out his phone and pressed a few buttons to shut down the incoming call before tucking his phone away again.

“Sorry about that,” the rabbit said with a chuckle. Burgerpants shook his head as he noticed the rabbit had leaned closer down than he had been. 

“Not a problem,” he said, reaching up and pulling Bluebell’s head down to face him, a surprised but not unpleasant smattering of cobalt lightening up the rabbit’s cheeks as the cat raised up and--

 

_WHAM!_

“MOTHER OF ASGORE!” Burgerpants screeched, letting go of Bluebell’s face and clamping his hands over his nose, which had just collided with Bluebell’s pointy chin. As the rabbit rubbed his face, he asked if Burgy was alright, but the cat just grumbled.

_I swear, if my nose is bleeding AGAIN, I’m going to---!_

Instantly, both of their phones started going off. The two monsters looked around, baffled by the sudden onslaught of calls, before Bluebell noticed just why the door had slammed open and knocked them halfway back into the alley. Cal turned and followed his gaze only to see the maitre’ D of the resort’s swankier restaurant standing in the doorway, the giant catfish-like monster completely out of breath.

“Purrington!” he shouted. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Growling, Cal asked, “What IS it, Fisher?” Really, if it had anything to do with Mettaton being his melodramatic narcissistic self, Cal was going to give the robot a piece of his mind. And maybe a foot and a few claws, to boot!

“You’re not going to believe this,” Fisher said excitedly, “but it’s all over the news!”

“What is?” Bluebell asked.

Beaming as wide as his toothless fishy maw could beam, Fisher threw one finned arm out and gestured in the direction of the Core.

“King Asgore himself just made the announcement: _The Barrier has finally been broken!_ “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the past two chapters were a little dialogue-heavy. I also had originally intended this chapter to have much more of an “intimate” feel to it with the whole soul/affections thing, but I wound up with two emotionally exhausted characters by the end of it. Welp, they’re back together again, at least! That’s enough updating for today.
> 
>  
> 
> For those of you that skipped the past most of Chapters 25-27 due to trigger warnings, here’s a quick recap:
> 
> Ch25: Burgerpants, feeling bitterly bummed out, realizes that his depression and heartache have caused an actual rift in his soul that is slowly hurting him. Trying not to think of Bluebell, he goes to work -- only to meet Frisk, who gets him to talking. For half the chapter, Cal tries to calm himself down from a near anxiety attack by getting high (in front of a kid, which he acknowledges is not good but is too out of it to care) and rambling to Frisk. It ends when Frisk gives Cal a note from Catty and Bratty who have asked him to join them that night in the alley.
> 
> Ch26: Burgerpants leaves work early to change clothes, reminisces about his Snowdin trip, and heads to the alley. Finding neither Catty nor Bratty, he inspects their stall and finds a wrapped box containing a Nice Cream for him. Bluebell shows up and begs for Cal to let him explain. Cal accuses Bluebell and his sister of being romantically involved and tries to leave, but Bluebell convinces Cal to stick around long enough to hear him out. After explaining how he met the sisters and how concerned everyone is, he tells Burgerpants how he wishes he could see him perform again. Cal gets into a rant and reveals not only that his parents’ deaths are still actively hurting him, but that part of his isolation was due to his being unable to deal with his sisters’ grief and cruel remarks made by former family friends who wanted him to give up his dream after his parents’ died. The end of the chapter reveals that Cal is forcing himself to suffer because he feels guilty that the time he invested into a crummy job took away from time spent with his parents during their final year.
> 
> Ch27: Burgerpants angsts over his regrets and talks about how undeserving he is of life. Bluebell shares a story with him about his own regrets related to dead loved ones: in this case, several friends and his own later brother-in-law. We learn that Bluebell’s worrywart concerns stems from their deaths (especially Boxer’s, who actually killed himself during a fight when Bluebell tried to stop him from taking out not only himself but his infant son), how Bluebell started the Nice Cream business, and how well Bluebell understands grief. He finally manages to convince Cal that no one -- not even his parents -- would have wanted the cat to suffer and the two reconcile. They have a moment of (almost!) intimate closeness that is interrupted by cell phone calls and a door-opening mishap that nearly gives Cal a bloody nose for the second time in the series. The chapter ends when another monster informs the pair that the Barrier has been broken.***
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, my lovelies~! Just one more chapter to go!


	28. Extending the Olive Branch

All else had been forgotten the moment Bluebell heard the words “Barrier” and “broken” in the same sentence.

Instantly, he and Burgerpants rushed into the previously empty restaurant, which was now crowded with various members of the resort staff. Ignoring the excited chatter around them, Cal and Bluebell looked on in awe as the news report streamed on television screen mounted high near the ceiling. The scenes switched between a live announcement from King Asgore (who was joined by, of all people, the former queen Toriel and the human child Frisk) and voiced-over footage of the now unimpeded tunnel to the Surface. 

As a reporter finished up an interview with Queen Toriel, who was announcing a thank-you on behalf of all monsterkind to their tiny helper, the camera zoomed in to the child whose hand she was holding. Frisk, with tired eyes strangely knowing for such a young creature, looked at the camera before bursting into a wide smile.

“Way to go, Little Buddy,” Bluebell heard Cal whisper. 

Mirroring his little Nice Cream helper’s smile, he turned to Burgerpants, who looked absolutely enraptured by the briefest glimpse of the sunlight and trees of the Surface at the end of the tunnel. With a breathless laugh, the cat looked up at Bluebell, his face radiant with surprised disbelief. Between seeing this new expression of Cal’s, the feeling of a hard-earned victory at finally getting through to the other monster, and the knowledge that they were finally, _finally_ free, Bluebell felt as though his soul might actually burst from happiness.

“Guess things are going to be looking up for us from now.”

“Yeah,” Cal said, turning back to the broadcast, “I think you’re right.”

Neither commented on the fact that their hands remained clasped together, their souls soaring from the contact as they simultaneously shifted their fingers to link them together, tighter.

 

 

 

After celebrating with the other resort-goers for most of the night, Burgerpants led Bluebell back to his apartment. He didn’t see any reason why the rabbit, who was thoroughly zonked from the excitement of the day, should have to walk all of the way back to Snowdin that night. Bluebell heartily agreed.

Especially when he had the best warm orange ball of fluff in all of Hotland as his cuddle-buddy (the admission of which turned Cal’s face the same color of the sunset that he had seen on television).

They fell asleep to the repeat broadcast of the Barrier’s destruction, waking up only hours later to find they had both passed out on the couch with Bluebell hugging Burgerpants like the cat was his own personal teddy bear and two lanky blue-furred legs dangling awkwardly off the sofa and onto the coffee table (just when that thing had gotten not only pushed against the couch but _uprighted_ after their ugly spat, Burgerpants didn’t know).

What they did know was that, as nice as it felt to wake up knowing they were no longer fighting and _free_ , they had obligations to fulfill.

Namely, Bluebell’s returning the many, many texts of his siblings, neighbors and friends.

Since Cal didn’t really have much of anyone to text, the cat contented himself with making breakfast and watching Bluebell’s smile and ears go through a hundred expressive combinations before he was finally through messaging everyone.

“Whoa! Check this out!” he held up his phone for Burgerpants to see. Turning off the stove and sliding the last of the pancakes onto a plate, the cat walked over and looked at the screen, a snort of incredulity escaping him.

“How did _Sans_ of all monsters wind up on the Surface before the rest of us?”

“Beats me,” Bluebell said, grinning. “For someone who is a self-proclaimed ‘lazybones’, he somehow manages to be everywhere at once.”

“Like a skeleton version of those _Where’s Waldo?_ books,” Cal added. “All he needs is a pair of jeans, a hat, and the striped shirt. Think our Little Buddy will loan him one of theirs?”

Bluebell laughed as his phone suddenly lit up with another message alert. This one was from Macy. Upon reading it, his smile and ears both drooped softly. Curious, Cal asked him what was the matter.

“My family wants me to go to the Surface together.”

“Oh.”

Mt. Ebott was a fairly large landform, but monsters had not been outside of the Underground ever since the Barrier had been created. Because talks with the humans had only just now commenced, the king had been reluctant to allow everyone to run willy-nilly out of the mountain when hardly anyone had ever had the chance to react to the terrain Aboveground -- or find out exactly how humans beyond Frisk would handle the monsters’ reappearance. Therefore, perimeters had to be establish to maintain the safety of both the newly freed monsters and curious, uncertain humans that had begun to gather from the local towns.

After all, monsters had to make a good first impression. It would not come across very civilized if word got out that a bunch of monsters had been crushed to dust as the whole populace stampeded en masse to the Surface.

For now, the king was allowing groups of monsters to venture to the Surface in accordance to regional proximity of the now-destroyed Barrier. So far, most of the New Home residents surrounding the castle had gone up. Some monsters, however, had stayed behind and planned to go up with others from the outer-lying regions.

Bluebell looked at Burgerpants curiously.

“I know you’ll probably want to head up as soon as possible,” he said, “but if you want me to go up with you, you are more than welcome to join us when we do.”

The offer was tempting.

After all, Bluebell’s family (at least Macy and the bunnies, anyway) seemed to enjoy having Cal around. Bluebell added that it certainly would be easier to wrangle in excitable bunnies with some extra help, so Cal almost agreed to wait. _Almost_.

But this was a special day, though. 

A day when monsters really should be spending it with their loved ones. 

While Cal certainly couldn’t deny that he cared a great deal about Bluebell now, the rabbit had his own family. Besides, there were still two monsters out there connected to Cal in a way only flesh-and-blood could be…

He walked over to the corner cabinet and took down the small, round tea tin from within. Running a thumb reverently over the smooth brass-and-black metal, Burgerpants knew what his parents would have thought. What they would have wanted. 

_Perhaps now is as good a time as any to extend an olive branch_ , he thought.

“I think I‘ll head on up,” he told Bluebell. “You know, scout out all the good Surface-viewing spots.”

He heard Bluebell make a happy sound behind him and the shuffling of cloth on upholstery as the rabbit monster rose from the couch. “Well, Snowdin’s not slated to go up until tomorrow morning. Wanna walk me to the Waterfall entrance?”

Swallowing hard, gripping the tea tin as though it were a lifeline, Burgerpants asked, “…Actually, I was wondering if you would come with me somewhere first.”

Cal took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned around with a slightly nervous version of his smug smirk. Pocketing the tin, he looked at Bluebell, who regarded him curiously.

“You still wanna take me to that café?” 

It took Bluebell a full minute to realize just what Burgerpants was asking. Slowly, his ears lilting slightly upwards as the implications dawned on him, the rabbit monster moved around the couch to fully face the cat.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not like I’m going back there for good!” he adamantly stated before a thoughtful look crossed his face. “But now that we’re free…” He stepped toward Bluebell, his chin held high and smirk more confident. “For this? I think I’ll be alright.”

_If I have you there with me_ , he mentally added, not quite willing to say it aloud.

Not that he needed to.

Bluebell’s beaming smile was all the answer (and encouragement) he needed.

 

 

Burgerpants could see the café was crowded the moment they rounded the street corner. The figures of various monsters could be seen sitting and being seated at every visible table inside and out. Quite a few others were milling around where seats were filled and children darted through the maze of tables, causing feet to be pulled in and tucked out of the way to avoid becoming potential trip hazards. As Cal and Bluebell approached, a cacophony of voices met their ears. Many were excited, some thoughtful, others incredulous, and a few were blubbering unintelligibly through their tears.

Relief.

Restored hope.

Guilt…from surviving long enough to see such a day when loved ones had not.

Cal traversed the roaring sea of animated sound and gesture, the cadence of their verbalized hopes and dreams filling the space where -- had he been a hero in a movie -- his theme music would have been. With his soul frantically quivering in his chest as he approached the doors, he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, allowing the comforting scheme of red, blue, and yellow by his side to fuel his determination.

When he reached the doors, he could not see his sisters from the crowd of waiting customers inside, but he knew they were there.

Steeling himself with a deep breath and the feel of a supportive hand on his shoulder, Burgerpants pulled open the door and waded through the loitering monsters.

His sisters did not noticed him right away. Purrline looked only slightly less high-strung than she would during a rush this huge, but there was still a slight smile on her face as she hurriedly mixed drinks for the various patrons at the counter. Tabby, her voice loud and laughter booming, marched out of the kitchen with two enormous platters filled with plates, cups, and glasses. Though whether she was showing off her display of strength for the awe-struck children at the table or to mess with the head of the alligator monster helping her -- who instantly started whisking plates onto the table and seemed to be scolding her over not letting him help -- he didn’t know.

Wait, she was laughing and his scales were darkening, weren’t they? Yeah, she was definitely messing with him.

_Same ol’ Tabby_ , he thought, shaking his head. Looking around, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he took in the sights around him. So very little had changed about the place, apart from a new table here or there. The smells of fragrant bread, spirits, and his late mother and father’s signature dishes mingled with that of the stale, humid air brought on by so many crowding patrons. Even the old stage at the back was the same as it was during his last performance. Catching sight of his parents’ portraits on the wall made his eyes and nose sting with emotion, but he shoved it aside to focus on a more immediate matter:

Just how was he going to do this? He had gone over a dozen scenarios in his mind on the way over, but none of them seemed quite right. 

_Then again_ , he glanced back to Bluebell, _I always have been good at playing the audience._

His gaze sparked Bluebell to step forward, but motioned for the rabbit to wait. This was something he needed to do on his own.

Bluebell’s ears twitched questioningly. _Are you sure?_ he seemed to say.

The grin that widened across Cal’s face and accompanying nod were enough to stay the other monster. The rabbit had promised to stay just in case Cal needed him, though. Instead of leaving, he slunk through the monsters and took position up near the door. Then he nodded. _Go ahead_.

Turning around, Cal brought two of his stubby fingers to his mouth and let out a loud, piercing whistle.

“Hey!“ he shouted, finally bringing the attention of his sisters’ (as well as most of the customers) upon himself. 

It took a few moments but slowly the customers that recognized Cal fell to hushed whispers, the rest of the patrons following suit. Purrline fumbled with a glass she had taken down from the bar‘s shelf, barely managing to keep it from a shattering end as it danced from paw to paw to countertop. Tabby’s jaw dropped open, her eyes going wide as she took in her brother’s unexpected presence. She didn’t even seem to notice that she would have dropped the still half-laden trays had not the alligator monster with her pulled them to safety at the last moment.

“Cal?” Tabby asked, disbelieving.

Grinning, he puffed out his chest and stood with his hands on his hips. “Need a hand?”

Purrline didn’t move right away but Cal noticed her eyes flitting between him and Bluebell. His major concern was his middle sister, who had staggering a couple of speechless steps before her brow slowly begin tilting inward and her trembling paws came up before her, fingers quirked into claw-ready crookedness. His confidence faltered slightly beneath his practiced grin but he felt better knowing Bluebell had his back.

Confused and concerned customers moved out of Tabby’s way as she ambled forward, glaring at her brother. Finally, when she was nearly within arm’s length of him, she eyed her brother over before locking her livid gaze with his.

“I wanted to ask if you guys wanted to go to the Surface together,” he started, sounding a lot less sure than he had planned in his mind. He glanced over to Purrline, “The _three_ of us.” Cal turned back to Tabby. “If that’s alright?”

Tabby’s claw-like paws shook in the air, making Cal realize just how exposed his throat was when it seemed very much like his sister might strangle him at any moment. 

When she lunged forward, the first syllable of Bluebell’s name caught in his throat before he realized that, oh, Tabby _wasn’t_ trying to brutally murder him in front of an entire restaurant of monsters. Mind you, it was really hard to tell when she had him by the shoulders and was shaking him with concussive force.

“I outta smack you upside the head with a hot cast-iron skillet for worrying Purrl and me for so long!” she half-growled, half-shouted at him.

“You already shredded my screen door,” Cal managed to blurt out while being violently wracked by his sister’s onslaught. “Can we just call it even?”

Tabby finally stopped shaking him long enough to let his eyes stop lolling around in his skull so he could witness the full extent of her fang-bared glower. 

“I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me,” he offered.

Tabby glared at him for a total of thirty seconds before her eyes glassed over and her arms clapped around him in a death grip. Purrline darted around from behind the counter as their bruiser sister buried her face in Cal’s chest and let out a piteous whine.

“Don’t you dare do that to me again, idiot.” The words were gruff but the little sniffles she was trying to hide did nothing to hide the true feeling behind them. 

Realizing that he wasn’t finally going to be ripped apart now that Tabby had a hold of him, Cal let out a relieved chuckle and hugged his sister back. A split second later Purrline showed up, hands clasped and eyes hopeful before Cal threw out the other arm in welcome and swept the eldest sibling into the embrace. 

How long they stood like that, Cal didn’t know, nor could he recall. Tabby broke the hug at one point just so she could lift him off the ground in her own crushing embrace, shouting to the entire restaurant that her brother had come back for a visit before the cat himself convinced her to let him down long enough to don an apron. He was pleased she hadn’t said something like he was “there to stay” because that would have been not only horribly awkward, but a lie. 

And he had a feeling just who had a hand in that…

Turning around, he saw Bluebell watching approvingly from his position near the door as the cat, his sisters, and the other staff fell into practiced sync waiting on customers. Before Cal himself was hustled off toward the kitchen, he threw up one paw and waved.

_A farewell for now, with a promise of tomorrow._

 

Bluebell, his cheery beaming softening to a fond, relieved smile, mirrored the gesture before slipping outside and heading for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Final chapter!
> 
> For those of you wondering why I did a PoV switch in this chapter, there are two reasons:
> 
> One, it’s the final chapter, and I wanted both character perspectives (even though Burgy’s wound up taking over) as a sort of symbolic “it’s all come together” sort of thing. 
> 
> Second, I wanted to give my newest little writing buddy, **ahopefulreader** , and actual in-fic lesson about how to switch character PoVs within a chapter without it being too confusing (in this case, using greater spacing between PoV blocks; it’s much easier to do with a Third-Person Limited PoV or Third-Person Omniscient than First- or Second-Person, but I hope this helps.).
> 
> In all honesty, I likely could have done a bit better with making an equal PoV switch, but I wanted to focus more on Cal’s apprehension and the build-up to his reunion with his sisters. I just don’t think I could have pulled it off so well from the outsider’s perspective of Bluebell, so that’s why Burgy took over the last chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Now…FOR THE EPILOGUE!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Heh heh. I never said the last chapter was going to be the last _installment_ of this story! No, there are still a few loose ends that need tied up! Plus, who doesn’t want to see Sans and Frisk again? I DID say I would be bringing Sans back toward the end, after all~! After the last few chapters of dark, emotionally heavy content, we need a bit more (plot-relevant) sweet fluff and feel-goods to round out this story. And I have a very special part of the epilogue that was inspired by a particular reader, so stay tuned!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Also, for those of you who have asked, yes, I AM planning a long-fic sequel to this story. It’s going to be about as dark as “Snowed In in Snowdin” was -- as in, mostly misadventures with some angst and a lot of fluff. However, unless I get some serious inspiration, this will probably be the last substantial long-fic of the series. Mostly for the fact that I just have no idea where else to go after this.
> 
> This does not mean that I will stop writing Nicepants, though.
> 
> I do have a short chaptered work and two one-shots in the works for this, but I am open for prompts. Multiple prompts. Heck, shoot me as many as you want! I cannot guarantee I will be able to get to all of them or make all of them work, but I’ll happily take the assistance. I will probably leave the series open-ended and put most of the ideas in a collection sort of work.


	29. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick couple of shout-outs: 
> 
> One, to the awesome **budgieflitter** again for yet another lovely piece of fanwork, which you can find here: **http://cs629324.vk.me/v629324865/3d3b4/R5EPpiEXHZo.jpg**
> 
> Second, this epilogue is dedicated to **dongoverlord** for the whole “Nice Cream guy asks BP out on a date using Nice Cream” idea. Inspired by this comic here: **http://dongoverlord.tumblr.com/post/133040708801/idea-nice-cream-asking-burgerpants-out-usin-his**
> 
> Third, my newest little writing buddy, **ahopefulreader** , has just started posting their own fics! Please do go check them out. You can find their name down in the kudos section.  
> (And be nice, or I’ll track you down you little troll, season your innards with honey and nutmeg, and bake them into a pie~! Alright? Alright. ^-^ )
> 
>  

Being free was _overwhelming_.

That first rush of fresh air that hit Burgerpants as he and his sisters headed through the tunnel both excited and unnerved him. Cal didn’t even know air could feel so fresh! In Hotland, there was always the smoky, acrid taint from the lava lingering in the air. Waterfall, despite being full of rushing water, was also full of garbage; there was only so much the magical water-purifying Echo Flowers and mushrooms could do, and taking out the stale smell of stagnant water that collected in various parts of the aquifer was one of those things that it could not. Even Snowdin, with its heavy collection of air-purifying snow and cavern evergreens, could not even begin to rival that of the Surface.

It just felt so _pure_! 

(Cal understood why the king had several doctors and scientists lined up to explain what they would encounter on the Surface. If he hadn’t been prepared to feel like he was breathing pretty much nothing, he would have been more freaked out than he was. Not to mention all of the new smells that came with it! The intense mishmash of hundreds of plants, seldom-disturbed earth, wildlife, and everything else was almost enough to override his senses. He couldn’t imagine how it had been for monsters with noses more powerful than his. It was probably why most of the canines were playing traffic cops in the Underground at the moment.)

And the sun…!

There was a big difference between the imposing heat of Hotland’s lava bed and bathing in the actual sunshine. Even though it was supposedly early summer up there, to a resident of Hotland, the piercing burn of the sun was barely like the heat of a grill he had just turned on. Like pretty much every monster, he had disregarded the warning not to look directly at the sun -- and paid for it when the lancing pain shot through his eyes. It wasn’t so bad when he faced it with his eyes closed, even if he did have to stay under the tree to do so.

That was another foreign concept: _sunburn_.

_Those doctors certainly have their hands full_ , he thought. If it hadn’t been for the warning of their tiny savior and a goodwill gift from the humans consisting of every bottle of sunscreen and aloe vera gel from every retailer in the surrounding region, a lot more monsters would have been in a severe amount of pain. Some of those monsters who had been exposed to the sun for a while were made to rest in the shadow-laden places, but even then the sun still bled through onto some. Some of the younger monsters took to sitting under trees where the combination of sunlight-and-leaves would burn decorative patterns onto their skin -- so whenever the doctors (or Royal Guards under the doctors’ orders) noticed this and sent them back into the Underground for their own health’s sake, they would march gleefully home with their oddly shaped sunburns as merrily as if they were wearing mere concert-entry stamps. 

At least the scientists were having fun because observing the effects of the sunshine on various monster forms was apparently a grand opportunity for data gathering, and he saw many a white-coated individual dart gleefully about like a child at Giftmas.

Speaking of children…

Burgerpants was so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the extra shadow looming over him for several moments. Wondering if a cloud had passed over the sun ( _Clouds_ , he thought. _Actual clouds, not snow fog or lava steam_.), he opened his eyes to see a sun-outlined halo around the form of dark hair, earth-brown flesh, and a soft child’s smile.

A wide grin split the cat’s face and he perked up from his seat at the base of the tree. “Little Buddy!”

Small fingers flew into a flurry of gestures. _How do you like the outside?_

With an incredulous breath, Burgerpants told Frisk, “It’s amazing.” He leaned forward, one leg stretched out and one elbow cocked over a bent knee. “I mean, I’ve seen scenes of it on television, but it’s so different being out in it, y’know? It’s just so open!” He gestured up toward the azure, sparsely cloud-dotted sky. “And you grew up with this, didn’t you?”

Frisk nodded their head back in forth in a so-so motion. This peeked the cat’s interest. How could anyone who had this whole wide world awaiting them not want to get out and enjoy every moment? Did the kid just take it for granted? He told himself he wouldn’t but, deep down, he knew that if he hadn’t been trapped Underground for his whole nineteen years, the novelty of the experience might have been wasted on him.

Still, there was something about the kid that told him that that wasn’t the case. So he leaned forward expectantly, ears perked and eyes alert, waiting for them to continue.

_Those I lived with would not let me go outside much. Didn’t care. Snuck out anyway. Got into trouble a lot for that._

Burgerpants had to chuckle at that. He couldn’t help but to admire the spunk of such a little kid. Especially when that feisty little child had freed them all. But in the shadows facing away from the sun, when Frisk allowed their eyes to open more than a squint, he saw a strangely familiar tiredness in those intelligent little orbs. He cocked his head to the side, regarding them curiously. Then he lowered his voice and said, finally, “You really didn’t like it there.”

Frisk shook their head. _One time, I left and didn’t go back._

For a moment, the image of the first photo Bluebell had taken with his new customer came to his mind. Looking at their tiny fingers, Cal noticed that they did not look quite so bony as they once did. Mentally perusing the other photos Bluebell had sent him, he realized that the child’s cheeks did not look so sunken in anymore, that their hair seemed to be a bit thicker, and that they now had a beginning of a pot belly very reminiscent of the healthy kittens he and his sisters had been. Their original boots, which looked much too oversized for them, had been replaced with nicely fitting flats ( _Ballet slippers?_ ), the too-long jeans had been traded for a comfortable pair of shorts, and the dangling blue-and-purple-pink sweater sleeves had been recently hemmed to suit their petite size.

Once the pieces eventually slotted together into his mental puzzle, Burgerpants ears flattened softly and his face fell as a newfound sense of respect for the child -- a child whose SOUL was obviously many times older than their fledgling frame belied -- crept over him.

Frisk understood and treasured what freedom was. And they had chosen to actually face the king of all monsters -- their own _death_ even -- to bring that to Burgerpants and everyone else that had met. To monsters they hadn’t met. To ones that probably tried to…

And during the midst of all of that, they somehow found time to help one happy-go-lucky bunny and one very downtrodden, stubborn cat become friends.

Hardly able to contain his awe, Cal extended his paw and shook Frisk’s hand. “Thank you,” he told them. 

They smiled and gestured that it was nothing, that they were happy that everyone was free. Burgerpants shook his head. 

“Not just that, Little Buddy. I mean with that stuff with the Nice Cream guy.”

Frisk giggled a little and gestured. _Mr. Bluebell really likes you. And you like him back. You two just were not very good at making that known to each other._

Burgerpants stared at the kid for a full minute with the most bewildered look on his face (and a bit of a blush, too, if the prickling of his facial fur was anything to go by) before bursting into laughter of pure incredulity. Even this _kid_ had seen it? With the two of them fighting and Burgerpants going into a depressed rant--

“Oh, Asgore,” he rubbed his paws over his hands, flushing with equal parts embarrassment and shame. “Little Buddy,” he looked up at them, chuckling simply because he could do nothing else but laugh at his silly situation, “you must be a saint for dealing with a blockhead like me.”

Frisk waved them off. _You are not the worst I have seen_ , they told him. 

Looking around, they thumbed over their shoulder to a group of monsters farther out on the mountain. Two very beefy Royal Guards kept nervously knocking their hands together until one finally gave in and grabbed the other’s in a firm grip. Nearby, the Captain of the Royal Guard herself shouted “Look at those nerds!” before turning to the yellow, lab-coated lizard tutting over Undyne’s sun-drawing armor before hefting the rather hefty-looking reptile completely off the ground and yelling “But the best nerd here is MINE!” (much to the stuttering, blushing, and face-hiding consternation of the monster in her embrace).

His own flush deepening, Cal looked up at the kid who was now confidently standing with their hands on their hips and a smug look on their face, as if to say _See?_

Chuckling, Burgerpants nodded. “Alright, but thank you regardless,” he told them. “I mean it.”

The pair shared a fist bump.

“i should have known you were up to something **shady** , but i never would have guessed that you had an accomplice.”

Burgerpants jumped a little as a skeletal finger tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped his head around in time to see Sans step out from behind the tree he was leaned up against. _How in the heck does he keep doing that?_ Burgerpants thought. He had not heard Sans coming, at all!

Gulping, he wondered just how much the sentry (or was it former sentry now that they were free? Burgerpants didn’t particularly care for semantics at the moment) had heard. Sans didn’t seem to really care as his attention was focused on Frisk, who smiled as a bony hand ruffled their hair.

“been looking for ya’, kid. queen ‘mom’ needs her little ambassador for a while.”

Cal blinked as Frisk’s face lit up. “’Queen Mom’?” he asked. Frisk turned to Burgerpants and nodded, their hands motioning out a surprising statement. _Toriel was…adopting them?!_ He felt a moment of blind panic as sweat beaded on his forehead.

He had gotten high in front of the queen’s child.

Forget Bluebell finding out. _Toriel_ was going to kill him.

“That’s…wonderful,” he told Frisk, his voice cracking a bit. He shook his head and cleared his throat, hoping to feel less guilty. Under Sans’ observant gaze, though, he felt his sins crawling up his back. He decided to change the subject. “Wait. Ambassador?”

Frisk nodded happily as Sans clapped a hand on their shoulder. “the king figured the best person to help with the fledgling human-monster relations was a human who had already lived among us for a while,” Sans told him. “it’s a **tall** order for a kid, but i’m sure they’ll **grow** into it.” 

Burgerpants just shook his head at the bad pun as a laughing Frisk leapt up and pulled down the hand Sans’ had extended high into the air. The skeleton looked down at the kid.

“guess we’d better make like trees and **leaf**.” Frisk nodded. Sans turned back to the cat. “been nice seeing you again, pal.”

“Yeah, seeya,” Cal said with a wave. As the kid and skeleton headed off, he noticed that, beyond them, monsters had begun pouring out of the mouth of the tunnel. Among them, bopping tall over the crowd, was a pair of very familiar long blue ears.

Grinning, Cal hoisted himself off the ground and went over to greet the Nice Cream maker.

 

 

It had been Bluebell’s idea for their two families to watch the sunset together. Cal expected it to be a lot more nerve-wracking than it was, what with over a year of Tabby’s crazy antics fueling his anxiety. Fortunately, his middle sister was on her best behavior upon meeting the rabbits and, within an hour, the bunnies had both her and Purrline wrapped around their tiny furred hands. 

The only thing that really unnerved him was how quickly his sisters and Macy had hit it off. The three of them together -- _especially_ when they were grouped by themselves and kept glancing at him and Bluebell and snickering -- could not bode well. Not at all.

So the moment the sun had dipped just below the distant horizon, Burgerpants fled the mischievous stares of the Evil Older Sisters Club by grabbing Bluebell by the wrist and dragging him away before the girls could corner either of them.

Bluebell, of course, seemed more than willing to go along with whatever Cal had planned.

After winding their way up the mountain path until their sisters’ laughter finally died away, Burgerpants spotted a row of rocks marking an area he discovered yesterday. Carefully, he led Bluebell up a grouping of boulders. At the top, a great slab of stone jutted up high out of the earth, dipping slightly enough to make a perfect place to lay back and watch the stars. Bluebell gasped, his ears going slack and eyes wide as he took in the twinkling lights dotting the orange-and-purple-tinted swath of darkness. 

“Is this for real?” he babbled as he sat down next to Cal on the sun-warmed granite. Grinning, Cal nodded.

“Pretty breath-taking, huh?” 

The cat looked up, watching the shining lights sparkle and the fluttering shapes of tiny bats dart across the silvery crescent of the waning moon. There was a soft murmur of agreement beside of him as the rabbit shuffled closer. The warmth of the other monster and the knowledge that _We’re finally free_ and that, yes, Bluebell was beside of him of his own volition even after everything that had transpired between them nearly bowled him over. Inside his chest, his soul stirred, its pulse deep and powerful and soothing -- like the roaring cascade of a waterfall melting away into a lullaby. Gingery fingers brushed blue, and Cal could swear someone had rang a bell within his senses.

He was glad the increasing darkness hid his blush well.

(Not that he needed to hide it. He was fairly certain the only other monster on that rock had a blush to match his own.)

For a long time, the two of them just laid back against the rock, staring up, watching the glow of the sunlight fade into a cloudless blue-black void, feeling the warmth of the day drain away and the tickle of the soft mountain breeze, and listening to the tranquil sounds of distant monster chattering, chirping crickets and singing cicadas. Once Mt. Ebott had become fully enveloped in star-spackled night, Bluebell’s voice finally broke the silence.

“The dark here is so different from the dark of the Underground.”

Cal murmured his assent. 

“It feels so open out here,” the rabbit continued, “like something could just reach down and pluck you right up into that void.” He swiped at the air, drawing his balled fist back to his chest.

“I know, right?” the cat said, glancing over at Bluebell with a grin. “It’s like the whole cosmos is on display. Like this whole wide world itself is just ripe for the taking!” He looked back up at the sky, his own breath hitching in his chest. “It’s ours to explore now. We can go anywhere. Do anything. Be whatever we want.”

He looked back over to Bluebell.

“We made it, Blue.”

With a quirky smile, Bluebell said, “We sure did, Cal.” 

Burgerpants shivered. Something about the combination of that lovingly attentive gaze and Bluebell using the cat’s real name made the very fur on his face prickle. Swallowing hard, Cal moved his fingers with intent of lacing them together with Bluebell’s when the rabbit’s hand moved and Bluebell sat up. Puzzled, Cal watched the rabbit pass his hands over his cargo pants’ pockets until a cold, wrapped treat dabbed him on the nose playfully.

Bluebell smiled. “Here’s your first Nice Cream on the Surface!” Shaking his head playfully, Cal sat up and took the treat. As he unwrapped it, Bluebell told him about how he had made that particular Nice Cream once before and planned to have Cal try it in the alley that night, but that they had forgotten it during the excitement. Cal waved him off, telling him that it was fine as he undid the binding string and paper.

“You know, I’m going to get fat if we keep going like this,” he said, laughing, as he nipped a corner off the treat. 

Whatever Bluebell said in response died the moment he saw the reaction on Cal’s face. The cat’s ears slowly folded downward as he rolled the sweet tidbit across his tongue, tears springing to his eyes as the true flavor resonated with his memories. He held the Nice Cream closer to his nose and took in a deep whiff. Faintly, he could smell it: that unmistakable nostalgic scent.

Swallowing hard, Burgerpants asked, “How…?”

Serenely smiling, Bluebell softly said, “After I talked to your sisters that night, I told them how I was planning to talk to you. I said I wanted to do something special for you when I asked for your forgiveness. A token of goodwill of sorts.” 

Cal rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed. “Did they tell you…? About this tea?”

The rabbit nodded. “Purrline said it was your father’s special blend.”

“Dad always made it for Ma when she was feeling rough,” Cal said, sniffling. 

Stuffing the wrapper into his pocket, he pulled out the tin of tea he had been carrying. He had originally taken it with him to Purrington’s Place as a talisman of strength but had brought it to the Surface with him for good luck. He thumbed over the decorative metal before giving it a slight shake. Only a pinch, maybe two remained inside.

_That’s just enough_ , he decided.

Asking Bluebell to hold his treat, Cal pushed himself up off the ground and walked over to the edge of the rock. The tea tin remained tenderly cupped in his hands.

“Mother was born on the Surface,” he told Bluebell. “She always wanted to come back here, to share this Aboveground world with Dad and the rest of us.” He gingerly prized off the lid. “I bet your friends and brother-in-law would have loved this, too.”

Bluebell watched him curiously as Cal knocked the dried bits of leaves, flowers and shaved flavored bark into his paw before recapping the tin and stuffing it into his pocket. For a moment, he held his balled fist up for Bluebell to see before taking a step closer toward the zenith of the rock. He turned and looked out over the Surface, looking at the shimmer of moonlit rivers below and the lights of distant city and houses that lined the lowland.

“This is our world, too, now,” he said as the rabbit stepped up behind him and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “We’ll enjoy it for all of them.”

Slowly, he stretched out his arm. 

Then, with a nod of encouragement from Bluebell, he slowly uncurled his fingers like the petals of a flower opening to the morning light.

Gently, the wind tugged at the herbal residue in his palm before a strong gust finally swept up the offering. Curling the gift around in midair as if delighted to receive the symbolic burden, the breeze finally darted far away from the two monsters, sending the particles off down the mountainside and out toward the lowland until the darkness prevented either from watching it further.

As Cal lowered his hand, Bluebell gave a comforting squeeze.

“Why don’t you read the wrapper now?” he said, offering back the Nice Cream. It took to shake off his daze, but he finally figured out what the other monster was talking about and dug the paper out of his pocket. Juggling his treat, he unfolded the paper and let his eyes take in the message. The moonlight provided just enough light for him to read.

Bluebell’s feet shuffled nervously against the granite.

“I know a lot has happened lately, and I know things are going to be very busy -- what with everyone dealing with the humans again and moving to start a community up here,” he said, “but whenever you have some time…I…yeah, I would be honored.”

For a few moments, Burgerpants just stared at the paper, silent and unblinking.

“Um, Burgy…?”

The rabbit withdrew his hand from Burgerpants’ shoulder.

“I dunno, Blue,” he said, “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be hard to top this.” 

Bluebell made a confused noise.

Instantly, the cat whirled around, wearing the biggest, snarkiest grin he could possibly muster. “I mean,” he continued, throwing his arms out wide, “what could be better than spending your first night on the Surface looking at the stars together like this? But if you think you can come up with something that’s more romantic, then by all means, show me!”

Bluebell let out what sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sigh of relief, then shook his head, smiling. Did he really think Cal was actually going to turn down the offer for a date from him? _Silly rabbit_ , he thought, folding the Nice Cream wrapper and slipping it into his pocket next to the tea tin. Immediately, he was caught up in a tight hug, the vibrations in Bluebell’s chest from his chuckling singing a lullaby to his soul. When he returned the hug, he could feel the other monster grinning as he nuzzled the top of Cal’s head.

Calico “Burgerpants” Purrington had once dreamed of being a star.

Now, when he finally felt he was at the center of at least one monster’s world, he had started to believe again.

_Things really can only get better from here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, we're done! 
> 
> I honestly hadn't intended this to go from a shipping fic to a psych lesson on depression, but there you have it.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for hanging in there until the end! It's certainly been a wild ride.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, if anyone has any pairings beyond Nicepants, Alphyne, and RG01/RG02 that they want to see in the subsequent longfic, please inform me! Thank you!


End file.
